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The  Burning  of  the  Convent. 


The  Burning  of  the  Convent. 


A   NARRATIVE  OF  THE  DESTRUCTION,  BY  A  MOB, 

OF  THE  URSULINE   SCHOOL  ON   MOUNT 

BENEDICT,   CHARLESTOWN,   AS 

REMEMBERED   BY  ONE 

OF  THE   PUPILS. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    R.   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY, 

Late  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &  Co. 
1877. 


Copyright. 

LOUISA    WHITNEY 

1877. 


University  Press  :  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 
Cambridge. 


PEEFATOEY  NOTE. 


'II 

T  was  not  originally  the  intention  of 
the  writer  of  this  little  volume  that 
it  should  come  before  the  public.  A  few 
copies  were  printed  for  private  distribution 
among  friends,  and  there  it  was  supposed  the 
matter  would  end.  The  story  of  the  Burning 
of  the  Convent  seems,  however,  to  have  been 
received  with  a  much  higher  degree  of  interest 
than  was  expected;  and  it  was  deemed  best, 
for  various  reasons,  to  accede  to  the  request 
of  the  present  publishers  that  it  should  be 
reprinted  for  general  circulation. 

The  volume  is  entirely  what  it  purports  to 
be,  —  the  author's  recollection  of  events  which 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


happened  forty-two  years  before  this  record  of 
them  was  made.  It  was  written  without  any 
reference  to  outside  sources  of  information; 
and  although  it  has  since  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  fellow-pupils  who  were  in  the  Convent  at 
the  time  of  its  destruction,  no  material  error 
in  the  story  has  been  pointed  out.  Human 
testimony  is  fallible,  especially  when  recorded 
after  a  great  lapse  of  time;  but  this  narra- 
tive may  fairly  be  received  as  a  truthful  ac- 
count of  events  so  extraordinary  as  to  have 
impressed  themselves  indelibly  on  a  naturally 
retentive  memory.  L  ^ 


Cambridge,  Mass., 
May  1,  1877. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


HILE  the  present  generation  was  still  in 
its  infancy,  Mount  Benedict  took  its  place 
among  the  storied  hills  of  Charlestown, 
Mass.,  —  the  three  Bs, — a  hill  of  battle,  like 
Bunker  and  Breed,  only  the  battle  had  its  origin 
in  religious  instead  of  political  differences,  and 
bigotry  made  the  attack  and  won  the  victory.  I 
was  one  of  the  vanquished  on  this  occasion,  being 
at  that  time  a  small  child. 

So  many  years  have  elapsed  since  the  event,  — 
which,  besides,  was  followed  by  no  results  appre- 
ciable by  the  multitude,  —  that  I  dare  say  few 
persons  at  present  know  that  the  finest  Ursuline 
Convent  in  New  England  was   once    established 


2  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

on  Mount  Benedict,  in  Charlestown.  It  was  built 
expressly  for  a  boarding- school,  and  intended  for 
the  children  of  rich  men,  Protestants  preferred. 
It  was,  for  those  days,  —  I  am  speaking  of  the 
early  part  of  this  century,  —  an  immense  struc- 
ture, perfectly  furnished  and  appointed  for  the 
pm'pose  ;  and  a  body  of  Irish  Nuns,  educated  in 
French  convents,  were  imported  to  give  the  in- 
struction. Nearly  the  whole  of  Mount  Benedict 
was  enclosed  for  the  use  of  the  Convent ;  there 
was  a  lodge,  a  Bishop's  house,  several  terraced 
walks,  and  grounds  tastefully  laid  out,  for  the 
recreation  of  the  pupils.  No  such  elegant  and 
imposing  building  had  ever  been  erected  in  New 
England  for  the  education  of  girls.  Picturesque, 
on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  with  a  background 
of  trees,  and  a  foreground  of  green  terraces  bor- 
dered with  shrubbery  which  descended  to  the 
road,  its  many-windowed  facade,  glowing  in  the 
light  of  the  setting  sun,  was  a  sightly  object  to 
the  good  citizens  of  Boston,  returning  from  their 
afternoon  drive  into  the  suburbs. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


"  The  Convent "  soon  became  a  very  popular 
school  with  these  "  solid  men  of  Boston,"  and 
elsewhere,  —  even  from  the  extreme  north  and 
south  of  the  country.  Girls  were  sent  from 
Canada  for  the  benefit  of  a  warmer  climate,  and 
from  New  Orleans  that  they  might  be  braced  by 
a  cooler  atmosphere.  The  conventual  school-sys- 
tem had  great  attractions  for  parents  brought  up 
under  stern  Puritan  restrictions,  against  which 
their  daughters  were  beginning  to  rebel ;  but  it 
was  an  odd  idea  to  call  in  Catholic  discipline  as  a 
substitute  for  Puritan  restraints  which  they  could 
enforce  no  longer.  My  father,  who  believed  in 
the  widest  liberty  for  men,  was  always  lamenting 
the  growing  independence  of  women,  and  the 
difficulty  he  found  in  keeping  his  daughters  under 
the  old  rule  of  implicit  obedience  ;  and  as  soon 
as  I  was  old  enough  to  be  sent  from  home,  he 
resolved  to  put  me  into  the  Ursuline  school  on 
Mount  Benedict,  Charlestown,  there  to  remain  till 
I  was  twenty  years  of  age,  —  happy  in  the  belief 


4  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

that  the  Nuns  could  save  him  the  trouble  of  educat- 
ing me  in  habits  of  strict  submission  to  authority. 

Nearly  fifty  years  have  elapsed  since  the  day 
when  my  mother  told  me  that  I  was  to  be  sent  to 
"  the  Convent  "  boarding-school.  I  remember  it, 
because  to  hear  the  news  I  was  ordered  in  from  the 
garden,  where  I  was  comfortably  keeping  house 
under  a  tall  currant-bush,  with  a  gooseberry-bush 
wash-house  attached,  on  whose  thorns  my  doll's 
wardrobe  was  drying.  They  twitched  my  sandy 
locks,  and  wounded  my  still  more  sandy  fingers,  as 
I  literally  tore  myself  away  to  obey  the  summons. 

Nearly  fifty  years !  and  it  happened  that  on 
the  anniversary  of  that  very  day,  I,  an  almost  old 
woman,  broken  down  in  health,  found  myself 
driving  with  my  husband  in  Charlestown,  and 
passing  along  the  very  base  of  Mount  Benedict. 
That  hill  still  wore  its  respectable  crown  of  ruins, 
an  unusual  ornament  in  our  country,  and  the 
ascending  terraces  were  still  well  defined,  though 
the  plan  of  the  old  pleasure-grounds  was  obliter- 


INTRODUCTORY. 


ated  by  time.  For  everything  had  heretofore 
been  allowed  to  remain  just  as  the  hands  of  the 
mob  left  it,  the  Catholics  having  indulged  them- 
selves in  the  expensive  luxury  of  retaining  the 
Convent  property  as  a  memorial  of  Protestant 
bigotry.  But,  to  my  astonishment,  on  this  day 
of  which  I  speak,  I  saw  that  the  base  of  Mount 
Benedict  w7as  swarming  with  sudden  life;  a  steam- 
paddy  had  already  made  a  breach  in  it,  and  was 
hard  at  work,  storming  it  vigorously,  assisted  by 
an  army  of  Irishmen  with  dump-carts.  The  hill 
had  evidently  been  secularized,  sold,  and  was  in 
process  of  grading ;  religious  resentment  could 
not  always  stand  before  the  rise  in  real  estate. 

When  I  saw  the  work  of  levelling  the  hill  fairly 
under  wray,  I  began  to  wonder  how  long  it  would 
be  before  the  story  of  the  destruction  of  the  Con- 
vent by  a  mob  would  be  forgotten  in  the  neigh- 
borhood when  those  reminder  ruins  were  removed 
and  their  site  covered  with  blocks  of  houses. 
Probably  Catholics  would  not  be  allowed  to  forget 


THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 


it,  for  they  were  the  martyrs;  but  Protestants 
would  be  glad  to  lose  the  memory  of  that  singular 
outburst  of  bigotry.  Then  we  "fell  on  talk" 
regarding  the  events  of  that  August  night  of  riot, 
and  my  husband  was  surprised  to  find  how  accu- 
rate was  my  remembrance  of  my  own  small  part 
in  the  drama,  and  he  made  me  promise  to  write 
down  my  recollections  thereof.  So,  without  fur- 
ther preface,  here  is  the 


STORY   OF  THE  DESTRUCTION   OF  THE   URSULINE 
CONVENT  ON  MOUNT  BENEDICT, 

ON    THE    NIGHT    OF    AUGUST  11,  1834, 


I: 

■ 

AS    REMEMBERED    BY    A    VERY    SMALL    EYEWITNESS. 

T  was  in  June,  1834,  that  my  mother 
told  me  I  was  to  enter  the  Convent  as 
a  pupil  as  soon  as  the  summer  vacation 
should  be  over.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  was  the 
individual  wTho  fixed  the  time  of  my  entrance ; 
during  the  previous  winter  he  had  been  denoun- 
cing fiercely  "the  Devil  and  the  Pope  of  Rome" 
in  a  course  of  lectures  in  Boston  upon  Romanism, 
exciting  a  strong  feeling  against  Catholics  and  all 
their  ways.  My  father  was  a  Unitarian,  violently 
opposed  to  Orthodoxy,  and  a  spirit  of  antagonism 
to  Dr.  Beecher  led  him  to  carry  out  at  that  time 
the  plan  he  had  long  formed  for  my  education  in 
a  convent. 


8  TfTE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

In  a  few  days  after  this  had  been  announced  to 
me,  I  remember  that  a  Convent  school-circular 
appeared  in  the  house,  which  my  mother  and 
I  studied  zealously.  It  was  ornamented  by  a 
vignette  of  the  building,  in  which  the  three  prin- 
cipal doors,  at  the  head  of  three  lofty  flights  of 
stone  steps,  were  very  prominent.  Four  ladies, 
sitting  quite  at  their  ease  in  a  barouche,  spite  of 
the  galloping  of  their  horses,  appeared  driving  up 
to  the  middle  door,  while  the  Charlestown  stage 
(omnibuses  were  not  in  those  days),  in  a  cloud  of 
dust,  and  crowded  with  pupils,  was  seen  modestly 
drawing  up  to  a  side  entrance.  I  was  never  weary 
of  gazing  upon  this  wonderful  work  of  art,  nor  of 
reading  the  circular  over  and  over,  till  I  knew  it 
by  heart. 

The  school,  according  to  that  document,  was 
divided  into  two  sections,  Senior  and  Junior,  — 
terms  which  inspired  me  with  great  respect,  nor 
could  I  imagine  myself  putting  on  the  dignity 
proper  even  to  a  Junior.  Classes  and  studies 
were  elaborately  set  forth,  the  names  of  sundry  of 
the  text-books  being  past  my  powers  of  pronoun- 


SUNDAY  PRIVILEGES. 


cing,  even  with  the  help  of  the  dictionary.  The 
pupils  were  allowed  only  to  spend  one  Sunday  in 
a  month  out  of  the  Convent,  either  with  their 
parents  or  guardians,  and  my  prophetic  imagina- 
tion warned  me  that  each  month  would  seem  a 
compressed  eternity.  Sunday  duties  were  denned 
in  deference  to  Protestant  prejudices;  the  pupils 
were  expected  to  attend  Morning  Mass,  but  Prot- 
estants might  read  their  own  Bibles  during  the 
ceremony.  Owing,  perhaps,  to  the  Puritan  strict- 
ness of  home, —for,  notwithstanding  my  fathers 
Unitarian  belief,  he  thought  it  conducive  to  dis- 
cipline to  keep  the  Sabbath  as  it  was  kept  in  his 
youth,  —  I  did  not  value  that  privilege,  as  my 
mother  assured  me  I  ought  to  do,  nor  yet  the 
prospect  of  committing  chapters  to  memory  on 
Sunday  afternoons,  which  indulgence  the  circular 
also  promised  to  Protestant  children.  In  my  heart 
I  suspected  that  the  Catholic  pupils  had  the  easiest 
Sundays  to  bear. 

It  was  a  relief  to  turn  from  those  gloomy  para- 
graphs in  the  circular  to  those  which  treated  of 
dress  ;  this  matter  was  discussed  with  a  seriousness 
1* 


10  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

befitting  the  greater  importance  of  the  subject. 
The  pupils  were  expected  to  dress  in  uniform  : 
blue  merino  frocks,  darker  blue  wadded  pelisses, 
beaver  bonnets  trimmed  with  blue,  was  the  wear 
for  winter ;  and  pink  calico,  as  the  best  washable 
color,  for  summer,  with  white  frocks  for  "best," 
black  silk  capes  and  aprons,  and  straw  bonnets 
trimmed  with  pink.  No  wonder  I  remember  the 
details,  for  my  mother  read  them  over  and  over 
in  every  tone  of  voice,  from  defiance  to  despair 
and  from  despair  to  submission,  in  view  of  the 
trouble  and  expense  involved  in  preparing  such 
an  outfit  for  me.  Mrs.  Richards  the  dressmaker, 
who  worked  for  the  family  one  month  in  spi  ing, 
another  in  fall,  made  her  appearance,  with  top- 
less thimble  and  dangling  pin-ball,  to  sew  for  me 
alone.  Pink  gingham  garden-aprons  and  "cape- 
bonnets"  were  also  insisted  upon  by  the  circular, 
and  as  many  under-garments  indicated  as  were 
then  thought  necessary  for  a  bride.  And  such  a 
fabulous  number  of  stockings  was  required,  that 
my  soul  was  disquieted  within  me  by  visions  of 
future  darning;  I   had   been  used  to  sharing  a 


MY   OUTFIT.  11 


limited  supply  of  hosiery  with  a  sister  about  my 
size,  and  we  had  divided  the  task  of  mending 
them  between  us. 

During  these  days  of  preparation  we  were  com- 
pelled, sorely  against  the  grain,  to  perform  daily 
long  "  stints  "  of  hemming,  for  an  outfit  of  sheets, 
pillow-cases,  towels,  napkins,  etc.,  was  required 
of  each  pupil ;  but  we  were  allowed  to  take  our 
sewing  and  our  little  chairs  to  the  platform  of  the 
garden-pump,  and  tell  stories  to  each  other,  under 
the  shade  of  a  crab-apple  tree,  whose  fruit  wTas  in 
a  promising  state  of  sourness. 

It  was  a  sad  reflection  that  I  should  be  away 
at  school  when,  those  crab-apples  became  ripe,  but 
my  sister  promised  to  keep  my  share  for  me  in 
the  bottom  of  a  battered  coal-hod  in  the  garret. 
Last  of  all,  a  bottle  of  Kidder's  indelible  ink  was 
exhausted  in  a  grand  marking,  and  piles  of  white 
work  occupied  every  sunny  window  in  the  house. 

I  am  afraid  to  say  how  much  money  was  spent 
in  school-books  for  my  benefit,  as  my  father  actu- 
ally got  every  series  used  by  the  different  classes 
of  pupils  through  the  whole  course  of  study,   as 


12  TIIE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

given  in  the  circular,  —  I  suppose  to  convince 
himself  that  he  was  really  disposing  of  me  for 
years  to  come. 

My  mother  used  to  sit  up  at  night  and  sew 
cloth  covers  on  the  books,  and  write  my  name 
therein  in  her  handsome  "  hand  o'  writ."  "  Suffi- 
cient for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof,"  I  thought, 
and  I  declined  to  look  into  them  till  I  should  be 
compelled  to  do  so  in  progress  of  time.  Then 
came  the  arduous  task  of  packing  my  trunk, 
which  my  mother  accomplished  on  her  knees, 
and  with  as  much  care  as  if  I  had  been  going 
to  Pckin  instead  of  to  Charlestown,  only  four 
miles  off.  The  sole  piece  of  finery  admitted  — 
a  pink  sash  to  wear  with  the  white  frocks  —  lay 
on  the  top,  and  I  endeavored  to  draw  from  it  all 
the  consolation  it  was  capable  of  affording,  as  my 
mother  forbade  me  to  take  playthings  or  story- 
books to  school.  I  had  wasted  enough  time  over 
them,  she  thought,  and  I  was  now  to  be  intro- 
duced to  the  stern  realities  of  life. 

My  father  drove  me  over  in  the  chaise  to 
Charlestown,  to  introduce  me  to  my  future  home 


INTRODUCTORY   VISIT.  13 

and  teachers  a  few  days  before  the  term  began. 
Wretched,  depressing  necessity !  I  remember,  as 
we  slowly  ascended  Mount  Benedict  by  the  drive- 
way, comparing  the  real  appearance  of  the  Con- 
vent with  my  recollection  of  the  vignette  which 
ornamented  the  circular.  The  building  did  not 
seem  quite  so  high,  or  the  doors  so  broad,  or  the 
flights  of  steps  —  veritable  Jacob's-ladders  in  the 
vignette  —  quite  so  lofty.  I  missed  the  barouche 
and  the  stage,  but,  to  make  amends,  the  Lady 
Superior's  coach  was  at  the  main  door,  with  two 
fat  horses  and  a  fat  coachman,  all  as  motionless 
as  those  in  the  vignette.  My  father  instantly 
drew  up  to  the  carriage,  and  jumped  out  of  the 
chaise.  I  felt  by  instinct  that  this  was  an  occa- 
sion. The  door  opened,  and  the  Superior  ap- 
peared, coming  down  the  steps.  She  was  of 
medium  height  and  very  stout,  but  she  had  the 
quick  step  and  vivacious  air  of  a  French-Irish 
woman,  and  she  carried  herself  with  a  royal  up- 
rightness and  dignity  that  compelled  deference 
from  all  who  approached  her.  Servants  followed 
her  with  shawls,  cushions,  and  parcels,  and  their 


14  THE  BURNING    OF   THE  CONVENT. 

deferential  manner  made  her  grand  air  more  ap- 
parent. I  observed  that  the  coachman  lowered 
his  head  on  his  breast  as  the  Superior  drew  near, 
that  my  father  bowed  lower  and  lower,  that  she 
addressed  him  as  a  queen  would  address  a  subject, 
that  a  word  was  said  about  me,  that  the  lady's 
eagle  eye  was  turned  upon  me  for  a  moment, 
wrhereupon  my  head  also  fell  upon  my  breast.  A 
slight  bustle,  —  I  remember  the  Superior  got  into 
her  coach  while  my  father  was  hesitating  as  to 
whether  it  would  be  proper  for  him  to  assist 
her,  —  a  slamming  of  carriage  doors,  and  with  a 
solemn  jog-trot  the  fat  horses  bore  away  their 
mistress.  Xobody  was  permitted  to  use  the 
grand  entrance  but  the  Superior  and  the  Bishop; 
my  father  and  I  were  ushered  into  the  Convent 
by  a  portress  at  a  side  door,  and  shown  to  the 
"parlor."  As  usual  in  convents,  a  grating  sep- 
arated the  guests'  division  of  the  apartment  from 
that  appropriated  to  the  Religieuses  who  came 
in  to  attend  visitors.  The  solemn  portress,  who 
looked  as  if  the  muscles  of  her  face  were  stiffened 
for  want  of  smiling,  bade  us  sit  down,  in  a  sepul- 


SISTER  MARY  BENEDICT.  15 

chral  whisper,  and  vanished  as  if  shod  with  felt. 
A  great  bell  clanged  through  the  carpetless  house, 
and  I  set  myself  to  watching  the  darkness,  that 
to  my  eyes,  fresh  from  the  light  of  a  summer 
noon,  seemed  to  be  condensed  behind  the  oppos- 
ing iron  bars.  A  faint  rustle  quickened  my  atten- 
tion, a  black  figure  moved  through  the  darkness 
in  wavering  lines,  stopped  at  the  middle  of  the 
grating,  and  a  beautiful  face  looked  out  of  it. 
The  "garb"  of  the  Superior  had  not  impressed 
me  much,  it  made  but  a  faint  blot  on  the  out- 
door sunshine,  but  the  black  setting  to  Sister 
Mary  Benedict's  face  and  figure,  as  seen  behind 
the  grating,  had  a  sombre  effect.  Young  as  I 
was,  the  Sister's  beauty  struck  me  at  once,  and 
I  pitied  her  for  having  to  muffle  it  up  in  such  a 
gloomy  head-gear.  My  father  did  not  appear  to 
find  it  disfiguring,  however;  his  manner  was  ex- 
pressing great  admiration,  I  thought,  and  I  won- 
dered how  the  Sister  could  keep  her  eyes  cast 
down  so  steadily,  and  the  muscles  of  her  face  so 
motionless,  and  how  she  managed  to  speak  with- 
out parting  her  lips. 


16  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

Again  there  was  a  word  said  by  my  father 
about  poor  little  me,  and  I  was  summoned  to 
stand  close  to  the  grating,  so  that  Sister  Mary 
Benedict's  downcast  eyes  might  rest  upon  me 
easily.  A  white  hand  stole  out  from  the  black 
hanging  sleeve,  and  placed  itself  on  my  head.  I 
raised  my  eyes  anxiously  to  her  face,  not  expect- 
ing in  my  humility  to  meet  a  glance  of  approba- 
tion, but  longing  for  one  little  look  of  sympathy, 
homesick  as  I  was  already  by  anticipation.  Alas  ! 
I  might  as  well  have  sought  for  it  in  a  face  of 
stone,  and  I  felt  instinctively  that  her  soul  as  wrell 
as  her  body  was  shut  out  from  me  by  an  immov- 
able barrier. 

I  returned  home  from  this  introductory  visit  to 
my  future  abode  with  a  heart  as  heavy  as  lead; 
my  dear  sister  flew  to  meet  me,  and  to  ask  me 
a  thousand  questions  about  my  experiences,  and 
I  could  only  weep  bitterly  as  I  assured  her  that  I 
knew,  I  was  certain,  I  was  going  to  be  wretched 
at  the  Convent.  I  could  not  answer  her  anxious 
"  Why,  but  why  V1  I  felt  my  reasons,  but  I  could 
not  put  them  into  words ;  I  had  a  conviction  that, 


SOMETHING  IN   THE    WIND.  17 

like  "Chicken  Little,"  I  was  going  to  a  place  where 
I  had  "  no  business  to  be,"  and  I  felt  new  anguish 
in  parting  with  all  that  my  soul  held  dear.  I  had 
a  grand  wash  of  my  doll's  clothes,  which  were  put 
away  in  a  candle-box.  I  even  washed  and  ironed 
the  ribbons  which  my  yellow  kitten  wore  round 
her  neck,  and  I  nearly  killed  my  black  rabbit  by 
stuffing  him  too  often  with  fresh  clover  in  my 
farewell  visits.  I  so  longed  for  something  to 
happen  which  would  prevent  my  going  to  the 
Convent  that  I  almost  expected  a  miracle  would 
be  wrought  in  my  favor,  nor  did  I  neglect  natural 
means.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  ate  green 
apples  and  sat  in  draughts,  vainly  hoping  that  I 
might  fall  ill,  and  be  kept  at  home  to  take  castor- 
oil  and  rhubarb. 

There  really  seemed  to  be  opposition  in  the  air 
to  my  going.  Several  gentlemen  called  on  my 
father  during  the  few  last  days  of  my  stay  at 
home,  for  the  purpose  of  talking  to  him  about  the 
Convent,  as  I  fancied  from  sundry  overheard  sen- 
tences. It  seemed  very  natural  to  my  childish 
mind  that  the  public  should   interest  itself  in  a 


18  TUE  BURNING    OF   THE  CONVENT. 

matter  that  concerned  me  so  deeply.  I  lingered 
near  my  father  when  these  talks  were  going  on ; 
as  well  as  I  could  make  out  by  paying  strict  atten- 
tion, I  learned  that  something  had  occurred  which 
made  the  Superior  gracious  to  my  father  when  he 
met  her  entering  her  carriage  on  the  day  of  our 
visit,  and  unusually  gracious  also  to  others,  and 
which  caused  her  to  show  herself  more  than  usual 
by  driving  about  the  country  and  stopping  at  the 
houses  of  her  friends.  That  same  something  caused 
Sister  Mary  Benedict,  the  most  beautiful  and  fas- 
cinating of  all  the  Nuns,  to  be  sent  constantly  to 
see  visitors  in  the  parlor,  and  that  something  in- 
spired her  to  be  more  charming  to  them  than  ever. 
Then  allusions  were  made  to  a  young  girl  who  had 
written  a  lying  book,  but  my  father  would  never 
let  me  listen  long  enough  to  arrive  at  the  heart  of 
the  mystery.  He  held  consultations  in  a  low  voice 
with  my  mother ;  I  hoped  they  would  end  in  a 
reprieve  from  school,  yet  I  had  a  sickening  feeling 
that  my  new  books  and  clothes  had  cost  too  much 
to  be  given  up  unless  the  equivalent  money  could 
be  miraculously  restored  to  my  father's  pocket. 


I  LEAVE  nOME.  19 

After  all,  nothing  occurred  to  prevent  my  going, 
and  I  was  taken  to  the  Convent,  punctually,  on 
the  appointed  day.  The  last  things  put  into  my 
trunk  were  the  inevitable  silver  spoons,  fork,  and 
mug,  usually  the  only  valuable  furnishings  of  a 
boarding-school  table.  I  was  too  heavy-hearted 
at  the  moment  of  leaving  home  to  weep ;  I  had 
put  my  doll  to  sleep  for  a  month's  nap;  1  was 
already  looking  forward  to  my  return  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  and  my  sister  promised  she  should 
not  be  disturbed.  That  faithful  friend  also  de- 
clared she  would  nurse  my  kitten  even  in  prefer- 
ence to  her  own,  and  that  my  black  rabbit  should 
be  fed  first.  How  differently  I  should  have  felt, 
as  I  gave  my  sister  the  last  solemn  kiss  of  parting, 
could  I  have  foreseen  that  before  my  doll's  first 
monthly  nap  was  over  I  should  have  left  the 
Convent  forever,  and  that  the  place  itself  would 
be  wiped  out  of  existence.  I  may  as  well  relate 
here  the  events  that  were  working  out  the  ruin 
of  the  Convent,  —  events  resulting  in  sorrow  and 
misery,  even  death,  to  some  of  the  victims,  but 
bringing  happiness  to  one  little  girl. 


20  THE  BURNING    OF   THE    CONVENT. 

Among  the  foreign  customs  retained  in  the 
Ursuline  School,  which  fascinated  plain  Protes- 
tants by  its  novelty,  was  the  pleasant  one  of 
holding  annually  a  high  state-festival  day,  called 
"  Coronation  day,"  just  before  the  commencement 
of  the  summer  vacation.  On  that  day  only, 
parents  and  guardians  passed  the  limit  of  the 
parlor,  and  were  allowed  admission  to  the  school- 
rooms. The  music  and  dancing  rooms  were  pret- 
tilv  decorated,  and  furnished  with  rows  of  seats, 
which  were  crowded  with  delighted  elders,  who 
forgot  the  heat  of  a  July  clay  in  admiring  the 
proficiency  of  the  pupils  in  the  accomplishments 
taught  in  the  Convent.  There  were  performances 
on  the  harp  and  guitar,  as  well  as  on  the  piano, 
by  curled  darlings,  dressed  in  the  prescribed  white 
frocks  and  pink  sashes.  Drawings,  landscapes  in 
India-ink,  and  fancy-work  were  handed  about,  and 
high  art  was  represented  by  theorem-paintings, 
Grecian  ditto,  and  painting  on  velvet.  There 
were  part-songs,  recitations,  and  little  dramas 
performed ;  the  results  of  the  yearly  examinations 
were  made  public ;  and,  last  of  all,  there  was  a 


CORONATION  DAY.  21 

grand  mustering  of  the  white  frocks  and  pink 
sashes  on  the  platform,  from  the  midst  of  whom 
a  queen  was  chosen,  not  by  her  schoolmates,  but 
by  the  Nuns,  who  led  her  forward  to  the  front 
of  the  platform,  and  presented  her  to  the  public 
as  the  prize  scholar  of  the  year,  averaging  first 
both  in  lessons  and  deportment.  As  it  was  never 
known  beforehand  on  whom  the  choice  would  fall, 
this  was  a  moment  of  great  excitement  to  the 
pupils,  and  to  the  queen  herself  perhaps  the 
proudest  moment  of  her  life.  Then  there  was  a 
Coronation,  —  a  crown  of  beautiful  white  artificial 
flowers,  made  by  the  Nuns,  was  put  upon  the 
queen's  curls,  she  was  led  to  her  throne,  which 
was,  after  a  while,  transferred  to  the  head  of  the 
long  table  in  the  Refectory,  on  which  a  magnifi- 
cent collation  was  spread.  The  meagre  diet  of  a 
year  was  forgotten  in  the  splendor  of  this  repast, 
wherein  figured  every  indigestible  delicacy  that 
French  confectioners  could  devise  to  tempt  the 
palates  of  the  children.  Some  of  the  Nuns  were 
accomplished  confectioners,  —  Paris-trained,  as  the 
school  legends  ran,  —  and  it  was  a  wonder  that 


22  THE  BURKING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

they  did  not  forget  an  art  practised  only  once  a 
year. 

Sister  Mary  John,  the  Mother- Assistant,  as  she 
was  called,  standing  next  in  rank  to  the  Superior 
and  her  natural  successor,  was  the  principal 
teacher  of  music  at  the  Ursuline  Convent.  On 
her  had  devolved  the  musical  training  of  the 
pupils  for  the  last  fete-day  which  was  ever  held 
at  the  Convent,  and  which  happened  a  few  weeks 
before  the  time  of  my  entrance  as  a  pupil.  She 
had  been  overworked  throughout  the  year,  having 
had  an  unusual  number  of  scholars,  and  the  final 
labors  of  "  Coronation  day "  were  too  much  for 
her  weary  frame.  A  frightful  headache  seized  her 
even  before  the  children  dispersed  on  the  evening 
of  that  day  for  the  summer  vacation,  which  ter- 
minated in  brain -fever  and  delirium.  Though 
tenderly  nursed  and  closely  watched,  she  con- 
trived, one  hot  day,  when  doors  and  windows 
were  left  open,  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  her 
nurses,  and  to  make  her  escape  into  the  world, 
poor  thing !  in  her  nightgown.  She  flew,  ghost- 
like, down  the  long  slope  of  Mount  Benedict,  and 


SISTER  MARY  JOILTS  ESCAPE.  23 

rushed  into  the  first  house  outside  the  Convent 
precincts,  a  farm-house  occupied  for  many  years 
by  Mr.  Cutter,  and  situated  on  the  main  road. 
Though  a  Yankee  and  a  Protestant,  he  was  a  good 
neighbor  to  the  Ursuline  community,  for  he  let 
them  alone  severely ;  but  when  this  fever-stricken 
apparition  with  wild  eyes  and  shorn  head  burst 
upon  him,  as  he  sat  at  dinner  with  his  family, 
he  bade  his  wife  look  after  her,  and  hurried  up 
to  the  Convent  to  let  the  frightened  Nuns  know 
where  their  patient  might  be  found.  The  Supe- 
rior's carriage,  fat  horses  and  coachman,  with  the 
stately  lady  herself  inside,  were  soon  seen  stand- 
ing at  Mr.  Cutter's  front  door.  Some  passers-by 
must  have  witnessed  the  struggle  that  ensued, 
when  poor  Sister  Mary  John,  screaming  and  rav- 
ing in  delirium,  was  half  forced,  half  persuaded,  to 
enter  the  carriage,  which  immediately  returned  to 
the  Convent  at  a  pace  which  probably  astonished 
the  fat  horses  even  more  than  the  passers-by.  In 
a  few  hours  an  ingenious  story  began  to  be  circu- 
lated in  and  about  Boston,  and  implicitly  believed 
by  many  people,  to  the  following  effect :  "  A  poor 


24  TEE  BURNING    OF   TI1E   CONVENT. 

Nun,  who  had  fallen  under  the  displeasure  of  the 
tyrannical  Superior,  and  had  been  imprisoned  a 
long  time  in  the  underground  cells  of  the  Con- 
vent, had  at  last  contrived  to  make  her  escape, 
but  had  been  followed  by  the  Superior  to  the 
house  where  she  had  taken  refuge,  and  carried 
back  to  the  Convent  by  force,  spite  of  her  cries 
and  frantic  resistance."  A  perfect  storm  of  indig- 
nation followed  the  circulation  of  this  story,  which 
it  was  almost  impossible  to  refute,  truth  and 
falsehood  were  so  mixed  up  in  it.  The  indigna- 
tion grew  'and  deepened  unavoidably,  for  this 
story,  of  which  some  of  the  facts  were  true,  and 
all  the  inferences  false,  seemed  to  justify  the  dis- 
like and  suspicion  that  had  long  been  gathering 
against  the  Convent.  The  handsome  building  it- 
self, overlooking  the  Sovereign  People's  highway, 
and  standing  in  extensive  grounds  that  must  not 
be  entered,  invited  the  curiosity  that  it  repelled. 
So  did  the  stranger  ladies,  the  Nuns,  who  occu- 
pied it,  and  who  so  entirely  ignored  the  world 
around  them.  In  fact,  the  whole  establishment 
was  as  foreign  to  the  soil  whereon  it  stood  as  if, 


DR.   BEE  CHER  PREACHES.  25 

like  Aladdin's  Palace,  it  had  been  wafted  from 
Europe  by  the  power  of  a  magician.  During  the 
winter  before  my  acquaintance  with  the  Convent 
occurred  the  great  revival  of  religion  in  New 
England,  and  the  old  hatred  of  Catholicism  woke 
up  under  its  influence.  As  I  mentioned  before, 
Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  delivered  a  course  of  lectures 
in  Boston,  in  which  the  "  Devil  and  the  Pope  of 
Rome"  were  never  introduced  one  without  the 
other,  as  inseparable  in  his  mind  as  the  Siamese 
Twins  in  body,  —  who,  by  the  way,  were  first 
exhibited  about  that  time.  Dr.  Beecher  fiercely 
denounced  convents,  and  enlightened  the  people 
as  to  the  depravity  popularly  supposed  to  exist 
inside  their  walls.  Very  opportunely  for  the  effect 
he  wished  to  produce,  a  book  called  "  Six  Months 
in  a  Convent "  was  just  then  published,  the  work 
of  a  silly,  ignorant,  deceitful  girl,  a  native  of 
Charlestown,  whom  the  Superior  of  the  Ursuline 
Convent  had  charitably  taken  into  her  employ  as 
a  seamstress.  The  public  mind  was  in  exactly  the 
condition  to  accept  this  book  as  true,  and  read  it 
with  avidity,  though  it  was  palpably  a  tissue  of 
2 


2G  THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

falsehoods  and  stupid  misconceptions  from  end  to 
end.  It  purported  to  relate  the  threats  and  per- 
suasions used  by  the  inmates  of  the  Convent  to 
make  the  writer  a  Catholic  against  her  will,  and 
it  ended  with  an  account  of  her  escape  from  their 
clutches  just  in  time  to  save  herself  from  being 
carried  off  by  force  to  St.  Louis.  The  story  pro- 
ceeded in  the  usual  melodramatic  course,  if  I 
remember  it  rightly,  —  I  am  sure  I  have  read  it 
over  again,  under  different  titles,  several  times 
since  !  The  girl  —  I  can't  remember  her  name  — 
left  an  interesting  orphan,  excites  the  sympathy 
of  good  Catholics  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Convent,  by  expressing  an  interest  in  their  form 
of  worship,  and  a  dissatisfaction  with  her  own 
Protestant  creed,  whatever  it  was,  —  "  Methodist, 
Baptist,  Hunker,  Dunker,  Shaker,  or  Quaker,"  as 
Southey  says.  The  Superior  of  the  Ursulines  is 
persuaded  to  admit  her  into  the  Convent,  that  she 
may  be  taught  the  doctrines  of  the  Church,  and 
confirmed  in  her  desire  to  embrace  them.  No 
doubt  she  was  an  important  person  among  the 
Catholics  at  that  time,  and  treated  with  attention, 


"SIX  MONTHS  IN  A    CONVENT."  27 

as  converts  were  not  so  common  as  they  are  now. 
Bat  after  she  enters  the  Convent  she  finds  that 
she  has  to  work  hard,  to  live  abstemiously,  to 
keep  fasts,  to  perform  penances,  to  rise  early,  to 
obey  in  silence,  to  have  no  will  of  her  own,  to  live 
within  four  walls.  She  relates  all  these  details  of 
a  conventual  life,  as  if  they  were  so  many  affronts 
put  upon  her  by  the  Superior  to  punish  her  for 
changing  her  mind,  while  that  lady's  persuasive 
flatteries  were  by  no  means  a  sufficient  counter- 
balance, —  layers  of  jam  too  thin  to  cover  such 
large  pills.  Catholicism  lost  all  its  charms  for 
this  young  woman  ;  her  experience  in  the  Convent 
dispelled  all  her  romantic  illusions  in  its  favor; 
and  the  life  of  a  Religieuse,  on  a  near  view,  seemed 
beautiful  no  longer.  She  finds  herself  more  of  a 
Protestant  than  ever,  and  wonders  how  she  ever 
came  to  desire  to  change  her  religion.  Plenty  of 
weeping  and  repentance  through  the  book,  till  the 
young  woman  discovers  the  deep-laid  plot  to  con- 
vey her  to  St.  Louis  for  the  purpose  of  shutting  her 
up  in  a  Convent  there,  and  making  a  Catholic  of 
her  by  force.     How  this  is  to  be  done  is  left  a 


28  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

mystery  over  which  the  victim  and  her  readers 
shudder  together.  Sleepless  nights  and  agonized 
days  follow  this  fearful  discovery,  but  when,  oppor- 
tunely hidden  behind  the  organ  in  the  chapel,  she 
overhears  the  Superior  and  Bishop  Fenwick  actu- 
ally settling  on  the  very  day  when  this  plot  is  to 
be  carried  out,  the  young  woman  can  bear  it  no 
longer,  but  makes  an  elaborate  escape  from  the 
Convent  by  climbing  fences  and  breaking  down 
lattice-work,  to  the  best  of  my  remembrance,  in 
preference  to  walking  out  of  the  door,  which  could 
not  have  taken  her  half  the  time. 

The  indignant  Protestants,  who  implicitly  be- 
lieved this  false  and  foolish  book,  never  asked 
themselves  what  motive  but  a  charitable  one  could 
have  induced  the  Superior  to  burden  herself  with 
the  charge  of  a  sickly,  ignorant,  poor,  and  friend- 
less girl,  who  begged  for  her  protection;  and  what 
motive  she  could  have  had  for  keeping  such  a 
useless  creature  against  her  will. 

While  "  Six  Months  in  a  Convent "  excited  the 
lower  classes  of  Boston  and  its  vicinity  against  the 
Charlestown  Nunnery,  Mrs.  Sherwood's  "  Nun,"  a 


THE   TRUCKMEN   ORGANIZE.  29 

fascinating  tale  which  appeared  about  that  time, 
prejudiced  more  intelligent  people,  who  could  not 
forbear  mentally  associating  the  only  Convent 
they  knew  about  with  those  of  which  they  were 
reading  in  her  book. 

The  Boston  truckmen  were  at  that  time  a  well- 
organized  body  of  men,  —  a  sort  of  guild,  who 
marched  in  Fourth  of  July  processions,  attired  in 
white  smock-frocks,  and  were  cheered  by  the 
crowd  for  their  manly  bearing.  They  were  of  the 
same  social  status  as  the  romancing  authoress  of 
"Six  Months,"  and  they  took  up  her  cause  warmly, 
finding  her  story  fully  confirmed,  as  they  honestly 
thought,  by  the  escape  and  recapture  of  Sister 
Mary  John,  which  the  newspapers  detailed  at 
length  hi  its  perverted  form.  Secret  indignation- 
meetings  were  being  held  by  the  truckmen  and 
others,  about  the  time  when  I  entered  the  Ursu- 
line  Convent,  and  many  persons  supposed  an 
attack  on  the  Convent  to  be  impending.  Hence 
the  visits,  so  mysterious  to  me,  which  my  father 
received  from  certain  friends  who  believed  that 
danger  threatened  the  Convent,  and  that  it  would 


30  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

be  wise  to  delay  my  entrance  into  the  Ursuline 
School.  But  he,  and  many  other  sensible  people 
too,  thought  it  impossible  that  any  danger  was  to 
be  apprehended  as  to  a  school  composed  almost 
entirely  of  Protestant  pupils. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  interrupted  my  story  by  such 
a  long  digression,  but  while  you  read  it  you  must 
imagine  me  jogging  along  to  school  in  my  father's 
chaise  with  a  heavy  heart,  in  spite  of  my  new  pink 
gingham  frock  in  esse,  and  a  consciousness  of  half 
a  dozen  more  both  pink  and  white  in  posse. 

My  recollections  of  the  fortnight  passed  at  the 
Ursuline  School  are  fragmentary,  but  vivid ;  like 
scenes  in  a  theatre,  with  the  curtain  of  forgetful- 
ness  dropping  between  them.  I  remember  arriv- 
ing at  the  Convent  late  in  the  afternoon,  just  at 
the  recreation  honr,  and  I  soon  find  myself  gravely 
walking  up  and  down  one  of  the  long  terraces  in 
the  garden,  already  a  Senior,  —  greatly  to  my 
sorrow,  and  obliged  to  behave  with  a  Senior's 
dignity,  while  the  happy  little  Juniors  were  skip- 
ping and  playing  in  the  walk  above.  T  owed  the 
misfortune  of  being  made  a  member  of  the  Senior 


THE  MYSTERIOUS   TREASURE.  31 

class  to  the  advanced  state  of  my  studies,  which 
fact,  considering  the  low  standard  of  education  at 
that  time  in  girls'  schools,  I  may  mention  without 
vanity.  There  were  several  children  about  my 
age  in  the  Senior  class,  but  most  of  the  girls  were 
older,  and  I  felt  miserably  out  of  place  in  their 
company,  especially  as  I  had  been  brought  up 
with  children  younger  than  myself.  Most  of  the 
Seniors  had  already  passed  through  the  Junior 
class,  arid  were  old  acquaintances,  having  a  free- 
and-easy  way  with  each  other  that  I  was  sure  I 
never,  never  should  acquire.  Apropos  of  this  feel- 
ing, I  remember  that  the  girl  whose  desk  was 
next  to  mine  in  the  school-room  kept  concealed 
therein  a  certain  mysterious  treasure,  namely,  a 
fragment  of  broken  looking-glass,  at  which  inti- 
mate  friends  were  allowed  sometimes  to  peep ; 
there  were  no  mirrors  in  our  dormitories,  which 
made  this  an  inestimable  privilege,  and  I  was 
so  overcome  one  day  by  the  apprehension  that 
I  should  never,  never  become  one  of  those  fa- 
vored friends  —  not  even  if  I  remained  at  school 
till    I  was   twenty  years  old,   as  my  father  had 


32  THE  BURNING   OF  TEE  CONVENT. 

decreed  —  that  I  burst  suddenly  into  tears,  and 
was  fain  to  hide  my  head  behind  my  desk-cover. 
Of  course  this  foolish  feeling  was  only  one  of  the 
miserable  symptoms  of  homesickness. 

On  this  first  afternoon  of  my  school  experience 
on  the  Senior  walk,  I  met  the  scrutinizing  glances 
bestowed  by  my  companions  on  me  as  a  new 
scholar,  with  deep  blushes  and  deprecating  smiles, 
feeling  very  awkward  in  my  solitude,  while  they 
were  promenading  up  and  down,  each  with  her 
"  particular  friend,"  enjoying  the  luxury  of  whis- 
pering secrets  in  each  other's  ears.  I  began  to 
meditate  how  I  could  best  climb  the  bank  and 
reach  the  Juniors  in  their  walk  above  me,  with 
whom  I  longed  to  play,  for  they  had  dolls,  so  much 
better  than  "particular  friends,"  and  some  of  them 
were  nursing  their  dolls  with  an  air  of  maternal 
solicitude  which  quite  wen  my  heart.  I  was  sure 
I  should  easily  get  acquainted  with  such  anxious 
mammas,  for  we  should  meet  on  common  ground, 
—  surely  they  could  sympathize  in  my  grief  at 
parting  with  Claribel,  and  my  reminiscences  of 
that  darling  must  interest  them  deeply. 


A  NEW  TITLE.  33 


Imagine  my  mortification  when,  just  as  I  had 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  bank,  a  severe  voice 
from  below  called  out,  "  Miss  Goddard,  come 
down  at  once  !  "  I  turned,  hardly  knowing  my- 
self under  this  new  title  of  Miss,  and  saw  one  of 
the  black-robed  Sisters  beckoning  with  her  finger 
to  hurry  my  movements.  Several  Juniors  had 
stopped  their  play  and  come  up  to  look  at  me, 
and  I  had  to  make  my  ignominious  descent  before 
their  curious  eyes.  Unluckily  I  slipped,  and 
rolled  sprawling  down  the  bank,  with  my  legs  and 
arms  rotating  like  the  spokes  of  a  broken  wheel ; 
the  Juniors  laughed  aloud,  and  my  face  burned 
like  fire. 

The  black  Nun  did  not  laugh ;  however,  she 
looked  at  me  very  gravely  as  she  told  me  it  was 
against  the  rules  for  Seniors  and  Juniors  to  hold 
any  communication  with  each  other  except  by 
special  permission,  but,  as  I  was  a  new  scholar, 
she  would  not  report  me  for  misdemeanor  this 
time,  only  I  was  to  beware  for  the  future.  So 
saying,  she  moved  slowly  away  in  her  heavy  black 
robes,  which  must  have  been  oppressively  warm 
2*  c 


34  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

on  that  summer  day.  But  the  Nuns  always 
looked  cool  and  comfortable,  and  I  used  to  won- 
der how  it  was  that  they  never  perspired!  —  at 
least  I  never  saw  any  sign  of  perspiration  on  their 
muffled  faces. 

Quite  humbled  in  spirit,  I  retired  to  a  distance 
from  the  place  of  my  downfall,  and  seated  myself 
under  a  smoke-bush.  A  Senior  I  was,  and  a 
Senior  unmixed  I  must  remain,  so  it  appeared, 
and  as  a  Senior  and  Miss  Goddard  into  the  bar- 
gain, I  ought  not  to  cry ;  but  I  could  not  help 
shedding  a  few  tears,  which  I  wiped  away  hur- 
riedly on  hearing  footsteps  approaching.  Another 
pair  of  "  particular  friends  "  who  had  strolled  to 
the  farther  end  of  the  wTalk  appeared  returning, 
with  arms  intertwined,  and  so  deep  in  confiden- 
tial talk  that  they  did  not  notice  me,  the  poor 
little  Solitary.  But  as  they  passed  me  I  recog- 
nized in  one  of  them  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine, 

Mary   H ;    old    schoolmate    indeed !    at   this 

moment,  amid  the  novelty  of  my  surroundings,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  must  have  known  her  in 
another  sphere  of  existence.     I  jumped  up  from 


AX    OLD  SCHOOLMATE.  35 

my  low  seat  and  called  her  by  name ;  she 
stopped  abruptly,  looked  at  me  and  knew  me  at 
once.  I  can't  say  she  seemed  overjoyed  to  see 
me,  nor,  indeed,  should  I  have  been  specially  glad 
to  meet  her  anywhere  else  but  in  this  place  where 
I  felt  so  lonely.  "  Why,  Louisa  Goddard,  how  did 
you  come  here  1 "  was  her  first,  not  very  flattering 
question.  "  I  did  n't  know  you  were  to  be  one  of 
the  new  scholars.  Just  got  here  1  Wonder  how 
you'll  like  it?  Darling  Bella,"  turning  to  her 
friend,  who  had  politely  withdrawn  to  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  alley,  "  wait  for  me  a  moment. 
I  '11  join  you  directly."  "  No  hurry,"  returned 
that  young  lady,  taking  the  opportunity  to  empty 
her  shoes  of  gravel  by  leaning  against  a  syringa- 
bush,  and  standing  on  one  leg  at  a  time.  Mary 
and  I  looked  at  each  other  silently  for  a  minute. 
We  had  formerly  been  rivals  at  a  little  school  kept 

by  a  certain  Miss  J ,  a  girl  only  sixteen  years 

old,  who  was  extremely  proud  of  us  "advanced 
pupils"  amid  a  little  crowd  of  A-B-C-darians. 
W^e  were  eight  or  nine  years  old,  and  we  two  com- 
posed the  "  first  class,"  and  recited  together  out  of 


36  THE  BURN  IXC,    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

Woodbridge's  Geography,  Colburn's  "First  Les- 
sons," and  Murray's  "  Abridged." 

Miss  J ,  with  great  want  of  judgment,  used 

to  stimulate  us  to  exertion  in  study,  by  pitting  us 
against  each  other,  making  constant  comparisons 
between  us,  and  praising  each  of  us  alternately,  at 
the  other's  expense,  so  that  we  generally  disliked 
one  another  cordially.  Sometimes,  however,  when 
the  pursuit  of  knowledge  presented  unusual  diffi- 
culties, we  sympathized  mutually,  —  as  when  Miss 

J gave  us  passages  to  parse  from  "  Paradise 

Lost,"  where  Milton  shows  his  grammatical  genius 
in  separating  his  nominative  cases  from  his  verbs 
by  immense  distances.  Till  we  became  shrewd 
enough  to  look  for  the  nominative  in  the  first  line, 
and  the  verb  in  the  last  line  of  these  passages, 
and  pay  no  attention  to  the  rest  of  them,  we  were 
often  hopelessly  puzzled,   and  quite    disposed   to 

help    each  other  by   "  prompting."     Miss   J 

used  to  make  us  "  parse  "  from  opposite  corners  of 
the  room,  puss-in-the-corner  fashion,  in  order  to 
prevent  it.  And  in  "recess"  we  sometimes  fell 
back  into  friendship,  when,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  we 


OLD  SCHOOL-DAYS  RECALLED.  37 

too  often  encouraged  each  other  in  being  naughty 
and  ungovernable,  taking  pleasure  in  putting  our 
foolish  young  teacher  to  her  wit's  end  for  means 
to  control  us. 

As  Mary  and  I  stood  looking  at  each  other,  the 
memory  of  those  half-forgotten  days  came  back 
to  us  both,  and,  being  now  at  the  mature  age 
of  eleven  or  twelve,  we  had  the  grace  to  feel 
ashamed  of  our  youthful  follies.  "  Louisa,''  said 
Mary,  coming  close  to  my  ear,  "  we  were  really 
very  naughty  girls  at  Miss  J 's  school  some- 
times. I  can  tell  you  I  behave  very  differently 
now,  and  so  I  hope  do  you"  which  she  said  with 
a  patronizing  air  that  recalled  all  my  old  dislike. 
"Now  we  will  promise  never  to  tell  of  each  other 
here,  and  while  we  are  at  the  Convent  we  must 

not   talk    before   the   girls    about    Miss    J 's 

school,  or  let  them  know  we  ever  went  there 
together."  Having  made  this  abrupt  and  sensible 
proposition,  to  which  "  of  course  I  said  yes"  — like 
Fair  Zurich's  daughter,  in  the  popular  song  of 
that  day,  —  Mary  returned  to  darling  Bella,  leav- 
ing me  plantee  la  under  the  smoke-bush  and  more 


38  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

discontented  than  ever,  as  there  I  sat  in  melan- 
choly mood,  watching  the  girls'  pink  frocks  mov- 
ing about  in  the  rays  of  the  sinking  sun. 

In  this  way  began  my  fortnight's  experience  in 
the  Ursuline  Convent,  which  made  a  deep  and 
lasting  impression  on  me  because  of  its  strange- 
ness. School  life  in  a  foreign  convent,  French 
or  Belgian,  would  have  been  no  stranger,  save 
that  we  should  have  spoken  French.  Never  to 
be  alone,  always  to  be  under  supervision,  —  these 
novel  conditions  made  me  unutterably  melancholy. 
I  will  try  and  recall  the  routine  that  we  followed 
day  after  day.  There  were  no  rooms  in  that  part 
of  the  building  devoted  to  the  pupils,  —  rooms  are 
for  a  few,  halls  for  many,  —  and  we  inhabited  halls 
exclusively.  Each  dormitory  was  occupied  by  six- 
teen girls ;  there  were  eight  windows  on  each  side, 
and  room  for  a  little  white  bed  between  every  two, 
while  small  washstands  stood  under  each  window. 
The  floor  was  carpetless,  the  windows  curtainless, 
—  each  girl's  trunk  was  placed  at  the  foot  of  her 
bed.  There  were  two  windows  at  the  end  of  the 
dormitory,  and  it  was  considered  a  great  privilege 


HOW  THE  DAY   WAS  BEGUN.  39 

to  be  allowed  to  occupy  the  beds  next  them ;  it 
was  comparative  privacy  to  have  a  neighbor  only 
on  one  side,  and  comparative  freedom  to  have  a 
double  outlook  upon  the  world.  Very  early  in 
the  morning  the  great  dormitory  was  thrown 
open,  and  Sister  Mary  Austin,  our  special  guar- 
dian, appeared  on  the  threshold,  when  she  crossed 
herself  devoutly,  and  began  to  recite  "  Matins " 
aloud,  as  she  slowly  walked  along  the  aisle  be- 
tween the  rows  of  beds.  This  she  did  with  as 
much  dignity  as  was  compatible  with  her  duty  of 
waking  up  the  girls,  by  dragging  the  bedclothes 
off  them  to  the  right  and  left  as  she  proceeded, 
practice  having  given  her  great  skill  in  suddenly 
exposing  the  attitudes  of  the  sleepers.  I  used  to 
sit  up  and  watch  them ;  some  with  knees  touch- 
ing their  chins,  some  in  a  huddle,  some  on  their 
backs,  with  arms  at  right  angles,  or  tossed  over 
their  heads,  and  some  in  statuesque  positions,  with 
folded  hands  and  feet  crossed.  There  was  only 
one  moment  of  immobility,  and  then  every  girl 
was  out  of  bed,  dressing  and  washing  silently. 
Then   in  procession  we  went  through  the   broad 


40  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

halls,  first  to  the  school-room,  where  we  knelt 
down  in  a  double  row,  each  girl  before  her  desk, 
while  one  of  the  oldest  pupils,  kneeling  alone  at 
the  head  of  the  room,  read  or  recited,  according 
as  she  was  Protestant  or  Catholic,  the  morning 
prayers  of  the  Catholic  church.  The  school-room 
was  a  very  large  one,  —  Seniors  from  other  dormi- 
tories joined  in  the  exercise,  —  and  I  amused  my- 
self by  noticing  which  girls  crossed  themselves 
during  prayers,  and  must  therefore  be  Catholics. 
They  were  few  in  number,  and  generally  foreign- 
looking.  Then  came  the  procession  to  the  Refec- 
tory, where  some  elderly  lay-Sisters  waited  on  the 
long  tables  which  were  set  out  with  the  regulation 
spoons  and  mugs,  and  not  much  else.  Melancholy 
as  was  my  usual  state  of  mind  during  that  fort- 
night, I  felt  a  new  access  of  misery  whenever  meal- 
times arrived.  Dry  bread,  though  excellent  of  its 
kind,  and  a  mugful  of  milk  for  breakfast ;  dry 
bread  and  a  bit  of  butter,  with  a  glass  of  water 
for  supper,  —  meagre  as  this  food  seemed  to  me, 
I  thought  I  could  have  swallowed  it  philosophi- 
cally had  I  been  able  to  look  forward  and  back- 


THE   CONVENT  FARE.  41 

ward  upon  a  good  dinner.  We  usually  had  but 
one  course  at  this  meal,  soup  made  with  vegeta- 
bles one  day,  soup-meat  mixed  with  vegetables  on 
the  next.  Salt-fish  ditto,  or  hasty-pudding  and 
molasses,  or  rice-milk  on  Fridays  and  fast-days, 
which  seemed  to  me  to  be  very  frequent  at  that 
time.  Having  spent  my  early  childhood  in  an 
English  nursery,  I  had  as  great  a  hatred  of  rice- 
pudding  as  little  Reginald  in  Charles  Reade's 
story.  "There  filthy  there  abbommanabel,"  as 
he  said,  and  I  thought.  I  always  wept  into  my 
mug  of  water  till  it  was  salt  on  rice-milk  days. 
Sometimes  for  a  treat  we  had  each  three  or  four 
dried  and  flattened  prunes  or  figs,  wizened  to  the 
size  of  beans,  served  in  little  cup-plates.  Even 
our  young  teeth  could  hardly  gnaw  them,  and  the 
girls  declared  them  to  be  bits  of  the  Sisters'  old 
shoes,  chopped  up  with  a  hatchet.  Even  that  ex- 
quisite joke  failed  to  make  me  laugh  in  my  dis- 
gust. I  confess  I  did  not  get  much  sympathy  in 
my  misery,  for  the  pupils,  accustomed  to  the  diet, 
cheerfully  swallowed  what  was  set  before  them, 
and  thought  no  more  about  it,  save  occasionally 


42  THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

to  remind  each  other  of  the  feast-days  that  were 
to  come,  particularly  "Coronation  day"  and 
church-festivals,  when  the  girls  were  put  in  good 
humor  with  Catholicism  by  little  entertainments 
got  up  in  real  French  taste.  I  can  only  say  that 
there  are  no  fete-days  of  the  church  in  the  later 
summer,  so  far  as  my  Convent  experience  goes. 

However,  we  had  food  for  our  souls  if  not  for 
our  bodies  at  meal-times;  the  older  girls  read 
aloud  from  the  head  of  the  different  tables  the 
Lives  of  the  Saints.  Protestant  children  were  not 
expected  to  listen  unless  they  chose,  —  one  of  the 
liberal  practices  in  the  Convent  which  raised  the 
school*  into  high  favor  with  their  parents.  These 
"Lives"  were  quite  as  interesting  to  me  as  fairy 
stories,  —  and  much  like  them,  —  and,  having 
nothing  to  do  in  the  way  of  eating,  I  listened 
with  all  my  ears.  Our  light  meals  were  accom- 
panied by  "Grace  before  and  after  Meat,"  pecu- 
liarly long,  and  there  was  much  bending  and 
crossing  among  the  Catholic  pupils,  who  really 
worked  very  hard  in  keeping  up  the  piety  of  the 
institution,  while  the  Protestants  looked  on  idly. 


CONVENT  STUDIES.  43 

I  used  to  say  to  myself,  indignantly,  "It  is  a 
shame  that  the  less  we  receive  the  more  thankful 
we  have  to  be." 

After  breakfast  the  processions  moved  back  to 
their  several  school-rooms,  and  half  an  hour's 
recreation  was  allowed,  or  rather  the  privilege  of 
using  the  tongue  for  half  an  hour ;  there  were  no 
playthings  or  games,  only  a  babel  of  voices  was 
heard.  Then  followed  some  hours  of  silence,  when 
the  girls  were  supposed  to  be  studying,  and  Sis- 
ter Mary  Austin  held  the  books  while  the  classes 
stumbled  through  or  gabbled  over  their  lessons. 
I  don't  remember  that  she  ever  explained  a  pas- 
sage or  talked  with  them  about  their  tasks ;  she 
used  to  take  out  her  handkerchief  and  yawn  be- 
hind it  very  often.  Then  came  more  processions 
to  and  from  the  noon  dinner,  and  short  recreation 
in  the  school-rooms  before  and  after  that  meal. 
In  the  afternoon,  hours  of  silence ;  fancy-work 
was  pursued  zealously  by  the  girls ;  some  of  them 
had  seemed  half  asleep  over  the  morning  lessons, 
but  they  waked  up  thoroughly  over  their  canvas 
and  crewels,  velvets  and  paints,  and  even  Sister 


44  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

Mary  Austin  yawned  no  more.  I  had  no  fancy- 
work,  only  some  dreadful  plain  sewing,  —  some 
under-garments  that  my  mother  had  given  me  to 
make,  and  which  Sister  Mary  Austin  basted  for 
me  under  protest.  These  cotton  seams  sunk  me 
greatly  in  my  own  esteem  and  increased  my  mel- 
ancholy. For  some  reason  that  I  have  forgotten, 
I  studied  very  little  during  my  stay  at  the  Con- 
vent and  was  put  into  no  class.  I  used  to  sit  and 
long  impatiently  for  the  time  when  Sister  Mary 
Austin  would  place  me,  perhaps,  in  the  first  class, 
where  I  should  astonish  the  big  girls  by  my  brill- 
iant recitations,  and  compel  their  respect  in  spite 
of  my  plain  sewing. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  wre  walked  in  procession 
for  our  sun-bonnets,  hanging  in  a  back  hall,  put 
them  on  as  nearly  simultaneously  as  possible,  and 
then  two  by  two  made  our  wTay  into  that  part  of 
the  grounds  known  as  the  Bowers,  —  two  broad 
grassy  avenues,  having  between  them  something 
that  was  neither  a  hedge  nor  a  thicket ;  a  deep 
tangled  wall  of  greenery  in  whose  recesses  a  double 
row  of  leafy  arbors  had  been  made.     These  wrere 


CONVENT  PLAY-UOURS.  45 

the  summer  playing-places  of  the  pupils,  Seniors 
and  Juniors  occupying  different  rows  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  green  partition,  aud  being  strictly 
forbidden  to  hold  any  intercourse  with  each  other. 
But  the  happy  Juniors  played  with  all  their  might, 
and  I,  having  neither  bosom  friend  nor  fancy-work, 
used  to  sit  on  the  grass  and  watch  their  energetic 
housekeeping,  a  family  in  every  arbor,  dolls  lolling 
about  against  the  branches,  and  tea-tables  arranged 
on  low  stumps.  A  dear  aged  Sister  in  spectacles, 
who  darned  stockings  continually,  had  charge  of 
the  Juniors,  and  was  even  good-natured  enough 
to  let  them  pull  at  her  rosary  as  an  imaginary 
bell,  and  to  sit  quite  still  while  a  sick  doll  was 
carefully  put  to  bed  on  her  shoulder  and  covered 
with  her  veil.  I  witnessed  many  small  breaches 
of  discipline,  —  whisperings  between  Seniors  and 
Juniors,  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  fashion,  candy  given 
and  received,  and  notes  hastily  passed,  scribbled 
on  the  fly-leaves  of  school-books.  Unhappy  child 
that  I  was !  a  prisoner  and  nothing  to  do.  The 
Convent  cows,  unwatched  and  grazing  freely  over 
a  large  pasture,  filled  me  with  envy ;  I  longed  to 


46  THE  BURNING    OF    TTIE    CONVENT. 

be  a  cow  or  a  bird  or  a  spider  or  an  ant,  —  any 
one  of  the  happy  creatures  at  liberty  around  me. 
In  fact,  I  was  a  doll-less  child  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  —  which  is  quite  as  bad  as  being  a  dogless 
man,  —  and  1  actually  mourned  for  my  waxen 
Claribel  as  Rachel  mourneth  for  her  children. 
Had  I  only  been  a  Junior,  I  could,  I  thought,  in 
some  way  purchase  a  right  of  adoption  in  some 
one  of  their  darlings. 

After  tea  there  was  another  hour  of  profound 
silence  enjoined  while  the  Nuns  were  at  the  Ves- 
per service.  My  soul  thrills  as  I  recall  the  mel- 
ancholy beauty  of  that  hour.  Motionless,  I  watched 
the  slow  setting  of  the  sun,  lighting  up  the  broad 
summer  landscape  with  a  golden  glow  and  darken- 
ing it  with  purple  shadows ;  and  when  the  sun 
had  dropped  behind  the  distant  hills,  and  the 
changing  opal  sky  was  fading  into  dull  gray,  the 
voices  of  the  Sisters  rose  solemnly  from  the  Chapel 
below,  and  the  faint  scent  of  incense  mingled  with 
the  breath  of  the  white  roses  trained  against  its 
walls,  and  floated  into  the  open  window  on  the 


MOMENTS   OF  FREEDOM.  47 

The  Convent,  with  its  broad  halls,  long  galler- 
ies, and  massive  walls,  put  me  in  mind  of  palaces 
about  which  I  had  read.  The  great  music-room 
with  its  piano,  the  handsome  gilt  harp  and  guitars 
dressed  in  uniforms  of  pink  ribbons,  seemed  to  me 
elegant  enough  to  be  used  for  a  meeting  of  Trou- 
badours. I  took  several  music-lessons  there  of 
Sister  Mary  John,  the  unfortunate  Mother- Assist- 
ant, who  showed,  by  her  nervous,  excitable  man- 
ner and  flushed  face,  that  she  had  not  yet  recovered 
entirely  from  that  terrible  brain-fever. 

How  I  enjoyed  the  little  moments  of  transit 
between  the  school-room  and  music-room  as  I 
went  to  my  lessons  and  returned  from  them  !  for 
they  were  my  only  periods  of  solitude  and  freedom 
from  supervision,  —  I  used  to  linger  on  the  stairs, 
jump  up  and  down  them  three  at  a  time,  dance 
wildly,  and  even  make  faces  by  way  of  making  the 
most  of  my  liberty,  —  and  I  felt  an  ever-growing 
desire  to  take  advantage  of  it  for  the  gratification 
of  my  curiosity.  The  pupils  were  positively  for- 
bidden to  visit  any  part  of  the  building  save  the 
halls  appropriated  to  their  use ;  and  few,  even  of 


48  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

those  who  had  been  at  the  school  for  years,  had 
ever  attempted  to  break  this  rule.  Yet  legends 
of  adventurous  spirits  were  handed  down  from 
year  to  year,  and  circulated  among  the  new  girls, 
and  I  had  overheard  just  enough  to  excite  my 
imagination.  "  Such  and  such  girls  had  made 
their  way  —  oh  !  —  as  far  as  —  urn  —  urn  —  urn 

—  (whispering)— and  seen  — 0  gracious,  they  had 
seen  the  strangest  things,  for  instance,  una  —  um 

—  um  —  (whispers  again)  and  had  heard  —  0, 
they  were  so  frightened  !  —  such  tones  —  um  — 
um  —  strange  voices — um — um  —  cries,  — groans, 

—  sobs- — "  (tragic  whispers,  shuddering,  expres- 
sive silence).  There  was  a  brick  tomb,  a  very 
large  one,  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  where  cer- 
tain Nuns  were  buried,  and  about  which  the  girls 
made  many  surmises,  which  in  time  grew  into 
dreadful  stories,  told  to  new-comers  with  bated 
breath. 

On  my  way  to  the  music-room  I  had  to  pass 
the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to  the  uppesr  stories 
of  the  Convent,  which  were  supposed  to  be  as 
much  out  of  our  reach  as  heaven  itself.     We  were 


A   FORBIDDEN   CHAMBER.  49 

forbidden  to  go  there ;  and,  according  to  school- 
girl logic,  that  was  sufficient  proof  that  wicked- 
ness was  enacted  there,  in  Chambers  of  Horrors. 
I  do  believe  these  ridiculous  fancies,  held  by 
Protestant  children  to  account  for  a  novel  disci- 
pline which  they  could  not  comprehend,  obtained 
circulation  among  certain  classes  outside  the  Con- 
vent, and  assisted  in  bringing  on  the  catastrophe 
which  destroyed  the  school. 

When  I  first  crossed  the  foot  of  those  stairs  I 
looked  up  with  straining  eyes,  and  wondered  what 
I  should  see  if  I  had  ever  the  courage  to  mount 
them.  On  the  next  occasion  I  began  to  think  I 
might  find  the  courage,  and  on  the  conclusion  of 
my  second  lesson,  when  I  was  to  pass  those  stairs 
for  the  fourth  time,  I  suddenly  resolved  to  ven- 
ture then  and  there,  and,  clasping  my  hands  tightly 
together  over  my  heart,  which  beat  so  furiously 
that  I  could  hardly  breathe,  I  flew  rather  than 
ran  up  to  the  first  landing,  but  beyond  that  point 
I  dared  not  go.  However,  I  saw  quite  enough  to 
give  my  excited  imagination  a  rude  shock,  and 
to  bring  common-sense  to  the  front.  The  stairs 
3  D 


50  THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

ended  in  another  broad  hall,  with  sundry  dormi- 
tories opening  upon  it,  through  whose  half-open 
doors  I  could  see  rows  of  little  white  beds  just 
like  our  own.  Even  in  that  moment  1  was  im- 
pressed with  the  exquisite  neatness  that  prevailed, 
and  the  spotless  purity  of  the  carpetless  floors; 
for,  as  in  all  foreign  convents,  the  floors  were  made 
of  hard  wood  or  solid  stone,  and  were  uncovered. 
Dead  silence  reigned,  and  solitude,  for  the  inhab- 
itants of  that  upper  story  were  all  busy  in  their 
various  duties  below.  Small  pictures  in  black 
frames  and  crucifixes  hung  on  the  white  walls 
.above  the  bed-heads ;  no  other  furniture  was  vis- 
ible ;  a  clock  ticked  loudly  in  the  silence,  and 
seemed  to  address  me  personally  with  a  stern  "  Go 
away,  go  away,  go  away !  "  and  down  stairs  .again 
I  flew,  well  rewarded  for  my  temerity,  had  I  been 
old  enough  to  know  it,  by  the  wholesome  disbe- 
lief that  I  began  to  feel,  after  this  experience,  in 
the  abominable  stories  whispered  about  among 
the  girls,  partly  because  their  lives  of  unnatural 
seclusion  gave  them  little  else  to  talk  about  and 
deprived  them  of  any  other  excitement. 


RED-HAIRED  SU.SANNE.  51 

In  our  various  processions  through  the  main 
hall  of  the  building,  we  always  passed  the  great 
double  doors  of  the  Chapel,  which  opened  upon  it. 
Sometimes  those  doors  would  be  ajar,  giving  us  a 
glimpse  of  the  interior,  where  some  one  of  the 
Catholic  pupils  was  often  seen  kneeling  in  pen- 
ance.    A  Canadian   girl   named    Susanne   P 

was  frequently  punished  in  this  manner  for  giving 
way  to  sudden  outbursts  of  angry  violence,  with- 
out apparent  reason  save  that  she  had  an  unusual 
quantity  of  red  hair.  This  was  supposed  to  be 
the  infallible  accompaniment  of  a  temper,  and  in- 
deed might  well  be  the  cause  of  it,  as  in  those 
days  the  owner  of  red  hair  was  alternately  snubbed 
and  ridiculed  for  that  misfortune  by  her  brown- 
haired  and  black-haired  companions.  "  Red  Hair," 
this  was  the  name  given  by  unappreciative  school- 
girls to  Susanne's  magnificent  locks,  by  which 
even  I,  ignorant  little  thing  as  I  was,  well  remem- 
ber her.  She  had  large  black  eyes,  which,  by 
contrast  with  her  hair,  added  to  the  singularity 
of  her  appearance.  These  eyes  she  was  accus- 
tomed   during    school -hours    to    fix    on   vacancy, 


52  THE  BURNING   OF  THE   CONVENT. 

wherever  that  may  be,  while  she  would  clasp 
round  her  knees  a  pair  of  very  white  hands  spot- 
ted with  freckles,  which  were,  as  I  noticed,  just 
the  color  of  her  hair.  She  wTould  forget  the  book 
she  wTas  studying,  and  let  it  slip  gradually  off  her 
knee  till  it  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  loud  bang, 
which  often  made  Sister  Mary  Austin  jump  in  the 
middle  of  a  yawn,  and  drew  upon  Susanne  the 
attention  of  the  whole  school.  She  was  a  silent, 
reserved  girl,  except  when  she  fell  into  one  of  her 
sudden  passions,  and  on  such  occasions  she  had  a 
way  of  hiding  herself  behind  the  waves  of  her 
bright  hair,  which  had  an  electric  sparkle  and 
vitality  singularly  in  contrast  with  her  pale  still 
face.  Every  hair  seemed  instinct  with  separate 
life,  and  her  great  eyes  fairly  caught  a  dull  glow 
from  the  influence  of  this  superb  chevelure.  I 
could  not  forbear  looking  at  her  compassionately 
when  I  saw  her  so  often  in  the  Chapel  kneeling 
motionless  as  marble  under  this  living  hair ;  and, 
lowly  as  her  head  was  bent,  I  thought  I  could 
detect  a  glance  of  recognition  sliding  from  under 
her  eyelids. 


EIGE  MASS.  53 


Sundays  we  all  attended  High  Mass  in  the 
Chapel,  the  Protestant  girls  taking  their  Bibles 
with  them,  which  they  were  supposed  by  their 
parents  to  read  diligently  during  the  services.  I 
am  sorry  to  say  the  only  diligent  readers  I  saw 
were  those  who  had  contrived  to  conceal  story- 
books between  the  covers.  A  low  partition  sep- 
arated ns  from  the  main  body  of  the  Chapel,  and 
behind  a  similar  partition  on  the  opposite  side  was 
the  apartment  occupied  by  the  Nuns  during  Mass. 
Heavy  crimson  curtains,  slightly  parted,  effectu- 
ally concealed  them,  filling  up  most  of  the  space 
above  the  partition.  But,  though  unseen,  their  ex- 
quisite singing  ravished  the  ear,  —  so  ravished  my 
childish  senses  that  I  should  not  have  been  sur- 
prised had  a  troop  of  angels  swooped  out  upon 
us  from  between  the  parted  curtains,  with  white 
wings  brushing  the  crimson,  looking  perhaps  like 
the  beautiful  St.  Ursula  over  the  altar. 

I  was  not  old  enough  to  appreciate  the  value  of 
the  solid  silver  candlesticks  and  vessels  that  fur- 
nished the  altar,  or  the  silver-gilt  communion-ser- 
vice used  by  the  Bishop  at  High  Mass.    The  older 


54  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

girls  had  much  to  say  on  the  subject,  and  they 
were  never  tired  of  admiring  the  elegance  of  the 
lace  made  by  the  Nuns  for  their  Chapel,  and  the 
splendor  of  the  Bishop's  robes  embroidered  by 
them.  But  0,  the  pictures  !  Really  valuable 
works  by  foreign  artists  hung  on  the  walls,  so 
utterly  unlike  any  pictures  I  had  ever  seen  that  I 
could  not  look  at  them  as  such.  The  genius  that 
had  breathed  a  soul  into  them,  such  as  a  grown- 
up amateur  would  have  appreciated  as  the  perfec- 
tion of  art,  informed  them  to  my  inexperienced 
eye  with  an  almost  real  life  and  breath,  that  awed 
me  inexpressibly.  I  remember  one  full-length  fig- 
ure of  some  virgin  saint,  with  flowing  robes  and 
hair,  and  a  face  of  perfect  loveliness,  glowing  with 
ecstatic  devotion,  as  her  eyes,  piercing  heaven  for 
"  ten  thousand  perpendicular  miles,"  —  such  was 
my  childish  thought,  —  seemed  to  hold  in  their 
gaze  a  something  not  even  to  be  guessed  at. 
While  I  was  losing  myself  in  this  picture,  I  won- 
dered how  the  girls  about  me  could  fidget,  and 
sigh,  and  complain  in  whispers  of  the  discomfort 
of  their  kneeling  positions.     Where  else  could  one 


THE  DYING  MONK.  55 

be  but  on  one's  knees  in  presence  of  that  picture  % 
was  my  feeling.  I  remember  specially  only  one 
more  painting,  probably  because  it  was  so  com- 
plete a  contrast  to  the  other.  It  was  the  head  of 
an  aged  ascetic  dying  in  the  wilderness,  starved  to 
skin  and  bone,  with  shrivelled  arms  and  claw-like 
fingers,  with  which  he  hardly  had  strength  to 
clasp  a  crucifix  against  his  ragged  robe.  There 
was  a  skull  in  the  picture,  —  much  resembling 
the  lean  head  of  the  Monk,  —  cross-bones,  a  great 
book,  and  the  mouth  of  a  cave.  His  eyes,  too, 
were  raised  upward,  but  "  0  dear,"  thought  I, 
"  he  only  wants  the  Lord  to  see  the  red  rings 
about  them,  and  their  livid  sockets."  These  pic- 
tured saints  seemed  to  my  imagination  endowed 
with  a  mysterious  life  of  their  own,  and  I  always 
fancied  the  chapel  inhabited  by  their  moving 
figures  when  the  doors  were  shut  and  locked,  as 
they  often  were  wrhen  we  passed  by  in  procession. 
There  was  a  great  difference  in  the  behavior  of 
the  Protestant  and  Catholic  girls  at  chapel.  Many 
of  the  former  made  it  their  business  to  assume 
indifference  to  the  services,  for  which  reason,  per- 


56  THE  BURNING   OF  THE  CONVENT. 

haps,  the  few  Catholics  felt  called  upon  to  show  a 
more  than  nsnal  devotion  thereat.  A  beautiful 
Creole  girl,  the  oldest  of  the  Catholic  pupils, 
set  them  a  perfect  example  in  that  respect.  I 
suppose  I  noticed  her  particularly  on  account  of 

the  contrast  she  presented  to  Susanne  P ,  who 

was  her  neighbor  at  Sunday  morning  Mass,  — 
for  the  Catholic  girls  liked  to  be  together,  — 
kneeling  so  close  to  her  side  that  her  bright  locks 
touched  the  lovely  Creole's  dusky  cheek  and  her 
bands  of  ebon  hair.  But  Susanne's  eyes,  with 
their  sparks  of  fire,  were  often   fixed  in  upward 

glance,  while  Louisa  M (that  was  the  name 

of  the  "West-Indian  beauty)  kept  hers  hidden 
under  their  black  lashes. 

I  began  to  know  the  names  of  those  girls  who 

most  interested  me.     Ellen  and  Rosamond  M ■ 

were  Catholics,  sisters ;  Ellen  rosy,  laughing, 
brilliant  in  health  and  spirits,  and  poor  Rosamond 
sullen,  pitted  witli  small-pox,  with  a  harelip  and 
no  palate,  so  that  her  imperfect  discordant  speech 
was  a  foil  to  her  sister's  joyous  sweetness  of  voice. 
There  were   four   sisters    named  W (two   in 


DANCING  DAY.  57 


the  Senior  and  two  in  the  Junior  class),  —  four 
sizes  of  pink  frocks,  and  all  the  wearers  pretty. 
The  oldest  was  handsome,  and  was  beginning  to 
know  it  and  to  look  forward  to  leaving  school  and 
wearing  something  better  than  a  pink  frock. 
The  second  was  a  grave,  quiet  girl,  a  great  favor- 
ite with  the  Nuns ;  she  already  showed  a  strong 
leaning  to  Catholicism,  and  at  last  married  a  gen- 
tleman of  that  faith.  The  younger  ones,  unless 
by  special  permission,  only  saw  their  sisters  to 
speak  with  them  on  dancing  days,  when  Elizabeth 
settled  their  sashes,  and  Penelope  gave  them  good 
advice ;  for  on  that  day  the  classes  were  taught 
together.  Nearly  all  dressed  in  white  frocks,  and 
a  holiday  feeling  pervaded  the  school.     A  certain 

Penelope  E was  one  of  the  prettiest  dancers ; 

she  ckasseed  about  merrily,  with  a  smile  for  every 
one  she  met.  She  was  the  motherless  daughter 
of  an  officer,  and  had  lost  the  use  of  one  eye, 
which  was  always  covered  by  a  green  shade.  But 
the  other  was  of  a  lovely  laughing  violet-blue,  and 
its  glance,  when  it  met  yours,  so  pleasant  that  it 
was    worth   that  of  any  two  eyes  in   the   whole 


58  THE  BURNING   OF  THE   CONVENT. 

school.  One  little  girl  wore  a  superb  net,  with 
heavy  tassels,  all  of  blue  saddler's  silk.  "Too 
lovely  for  anything,"  I  thought  both  her  and  her 
net,  and  I  wished  I  could  conceal  my  mop  of  hair 
under  such  an  elegant  appendage.  I  was  some- 
what ashamed  of  it,  as  it  had  lately  been  cut  by 
our  maiden  aunt,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  bringing 
her  shears  twice  a  year  into  our  family,  and  "  bar- 
bering "  us  in  an  eccentric  fashion  of  her  own, 
the  heads  of  both  boys  and  girls  looking  exactly 
alike  when  they  came  from  under  her  hands.  She 
was  kind  enough  to  pay  us  a  flying  visit  when  she 
heard  I  was  about  to  be  sent  to  school,  in  order  to 
give  my  hair  an  extra  touch,  and  she  pronounced 
her  work  a  triumph  of  art,  when  finished.  My 
head  was  indeed  "a  unique,"  as  I  saw,  after  com- 
paring it  with  the  heads  of  my  schoolmates,  not 
so  fortunate  as  myself  in  maiden  aunts  with  a 
genius  for  men's  business.  I  should  add,  to  do 
her  justice,  that  she  could  "carpenter,"  paper- 
hang  and  paint,  and  once  "  marbled "  her  front 
staircase  so  handsomely  that  it  saved  her  the 
purchase  of  a  carpet. 


MARIA   F AND  MARY  B .  59 

The  little  girl  with  the  blue  silk  net  was  called 
Anna  Augusta ;  such  an  appropriate  name,  I 
thought,  for  the  owner  of  that  exquisite  thing.  I 
resolved  that  if  ever  Claribel  had  a  sister,  she 
should  be  christened  Anna  Augusta. 

One  lovely  girl  among  the  pupils,  named  Maria 

F ,  had  the  face  of  a  young  Madonna,  with  a 

sweet,  pure,  still  expression,  that  made  it  a  pleas- 
ure for  me  to  look  npon  her,  she  seemed  so  pecu- 
liarly fit  to  be  in  a  convent.  Some  of  the  wild, 
turbulent  children  seemed  entirely  out  of  place 
in  a  community  of  nuns,  while  Maria's  looks  and 
ways  were  in  perfect  harmony  with  her  surround- 
ings ;  she  might  have   been  the  youngest  of  St. 

Ursula's  eleven  thousand  virgins.     Mary  B ,  a 

complete  contrast  to  the  placid  Maria  in  manners, 
was  the  wit  of  the  Senior  class.  She  was  as  given 
to  graceful  gestures  as  a  French  girl,  her  panto- 
mime was  as  expressive  as  her  words ;  we  always 
opened  our  mouths,  prepared  to  laugh,  whenever 
she  opened  hers  to  speak, — even  I,  the  melancholy 
Jacqueline  of  the  class. 

After  Mass,  on  my  first  Sunday  at  the  Convent, 


60  TIIE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

the  Superior  sent  for  me  to  come  to  her  own  room, 
whither  I  was  escorted  by  a  Sister,  who  knocked 
for  me  on  the  door.  She  was  graciously  invited 
to  enter  with  me,  which  she  did,  bending  her  body 
reverently.  I  suppose  this  honor  was  conferred 
on  me  by  way  of  curing  my  homesickness,  of 
which  the  Superior  had  been  told.  She  was  very 
gracious  to  me,  presenting  me  to  the  Bishop,  who 
had  just  officiated  at  Mass,  and  who,  without  his 
brocade  robes  stiff  with  embroidery,  looked  to  me 
like  a  peacock  stripped  of  his  feathers.  I  am 
afraid  my  miserable  discontent  made  me  very  sar- 
castic ;  soon,  though,  I  was  desperately  frightened 
at  finding  myself  in  the  Presence.  The  Superior 
was  a  very  portly  woman,  even  stout,  but  I  be- 
lieve I  have  mentioned  that  she  carried  herself 
with  royal  dignity,  and  even  arrogance.  The 
whole  household  feared  her ;  she  spoke  sharply  to 
the  Nuns,  who  bowed  before  her  ;  the  servants 
always  approached  her  with  bent  head,  downcast 
eyes,  and  hands  crossed  on  their  breasts.  The 
pupils  were  taught  to  rise  simultaneously  when- 
ever she  entered  any  one  of  the  school-rooms,  and 


THE  BISHOP'S  ADVICE.  61 

to  remain  standing  while  she  swept  through  it, 
and  as  long  as  she  continued  to  occupy  the  seat 
prepared  for  her  at  the  head  of  the  room,  which 
she  filled  as  if  it  had  been  a  throne.  With  the 
Bishop  alone  was  she  on  equal  terms,  and  when, 
on  this  my  visit  to  her  apartment,  my  fright 
allowed  me  the  use  of  my  senses,  it  seemed  to  me 
they  were  sitting  together  just  like  any  old  lady 
and  gentleman,  only  that  they  appeared  very 
happy  in  wrangling  and  contradicting  each  other, 
—  poor  things !  except  When  together  they  never 
could  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  -  disputing,  for  they 
were  despotic  sovereigns  elsewhere,  and  nobody 
dared  oppose  them.  Each  carried  a  silver-gilt 
snuff-box,  which  they  presented  one  to  the  other 
at  intervals,  taking  friendly  pinches  of  snuff  to- 
gether when  controversy  lulled.  There  was  a 
pause  after  I  had  been  introduced  to  the  Bishop 
as  a  new  pupil,  and  had  placed  myself  at  his  knee, 
by  the  Superior's  order.  "  This  little  girl  is  ridic- 
ulously homesick ;  what  shall  we  do  with  her  1 " 
said  she  in  an  admonitory  tone,  and  looking  at 
the  Bishop  as  if  expecting  him  to  lecture  me  on 


62  TEE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

my  folly.  I  dared  not  lift  my  eyes  to  his  face, 
and  in  the  silence  that  followed,  the  ticking  of 
the  mantel  clock  and  the  beating  of  my  heart 
seemed  to  be  racing  with  each  other.  At  length 
the  Bishop  spoke,  and  sharply.  "  Take  your  fin- 
gers out  of  your  mouth,"  said  he,  "  and  go  to  Sis- 
ter Mary  Francis,  and  ask  her  to  tie  up  your 
frock."  Relieved,  but  ashamed,  I  crept  up  to  the 
Nun  who  had  brought  me  to  the  Superior's  room ; 
she  hastened  to  obey  the  command,  and  drew  the 
string  so  tightly  that  it  broke,  and  I  was  allowed 
to  make  my  escape  in  her  company.  My  unfortu- 
nate sloping  shoulders,  which  were  always  letting 
my  frocks  drop  out  of  place,  and  getting  me  into 
trouble,  for  once  did  me  a  good  turn.  I  was  even 
glad  to  get  back  to  my  Sunday  lesson,  the  "  getting 
by  heart,"  as  the  phrase  goes,  of  a  chapter  in  the 
Testament.  Poor  Sister  Mary  Austin  found  Sun- 
day anything  bat  a  holiday,  for  it  wras  her  duty 
to  "hear"  every  girl  in  the  Senior  class  recite  a 
chapter;  her  religious  opinions,  I  suppose,  were 
considered  to  be  so  firmly  fixed  as  to  be  proof 
against  the  influence  of  the  heretical  Bible.     In- 


ONCE  I  LAUGHED.  03 

deed,  as  the  girls  hesitated,  stumbled,  or  drawled 
through  their  recitations  while  she  prompted  or 
reproved  or  waited  or  yawned,  I  thought  she  must 
get  such  a  surfeit  of  our  Bible  as  fairly  to  dislike 
it.  I  used  to  wonder  at  the  constancy  of  Sister 
Mary  Austin's  yawns,  till  I  heard  the  girls  allud- 
ing to  midnight  masses,  four  o'clock  matins,  and 
mysterious  penances  practised  at  night. 

Once,  and  only  once  during  that  homesick  fort- 
night at  the  Convent,  I  laughed  aloud,  and  it  hap- 
pened in  this  wise.  As  in  melancholy  mood  I  was 
sitting  on  the  grass  during  afternoon  recreation  in 
the  garden,  gazing  vaguely  towards  the  Convent,  I 
suddenly  spied,  outside  an  upper  window,  a  black 
object  that  hung  suspended  between  heaven  and 
earth.  I  walked  towards  it,  and  it  resolved  itself 
into  Sister  Mary  Bernard  cleaning  the  window  on 
the  outside.  She  was  a  lay  Sister,  a  servant  who 
had  taken  the  vows ;  there  were  several  of  them. 
There  she  was,  astride  on  a  buck-board,  with  her 
feet  in  old  shoes  down  at  the  heel,  pointing  to- 
ward heaven,  and  a  great  length  of  black  worsted 
stocking  visible,  embroidered  with  darns  and  open- 


G4  THE  BURNING    OF   THE    CONVENT. 

worked  with  holes.  Her  rusty  black  veil  streamed 
out  behind  in  the  breeze,  like  a  banner  wildly 
waving ;  her  white  forehead-band  was  dragged  dis- 
reputably over  one  eye ;  and  her  rosary  went 
bump,  bump  against  the  buck-board  as  she  ener- 
getically brandished  a  towel  aloft. 

I  remember  but  little  about  the  Nuns ;  a  few 
of  their  names  I  picked  up,  but  to  my  unaccus- 
tomed eye  they  all  looked  alike.  There  was  but 
one  novice  in  a  white  veil,  whom  we  pitied  pro- 
foundly, for  she  was  in  the  last  stages  of  consump- 
tion, her  face  as  white  as  her  veil,  and  her  hollow 
cough  echoed  about  the  house.  She  was  young, 
pretty,  and  so  anxious  to  mortify  her  poor  dying- 
flesh  that  she  persisted  in  fulfilling  her  duties  to 
the  utmost  limit  of  her  strength,  and  I  have  often 
seen  her  totter  and  catch  hold  of  the  table  to  sup- 
port herself,  as  she  waited  on  the  little  ones  in 
the  refectory. 

And  now  a  ray,  or  rather  a  whole  sun,  of  joy 
lighted  up  my  unhappy  life,  to  my  great  aston- 
ishment. By  the  rules  of  the  school  the  pupils 
were  allowed  to  go  home  and  spend  Sunday  once 


/  AM  SENT  FOR.  65 

a  month ;  therefore  to  the  end  of  my  first  month 
at  school  I  was  looking  forward  with  inexpressible 
longing.  The  first  fortnight  had  dragged  itself 
away,  and  I  was  beginning  to  count  the  days  of 
the  second,  with  the  feeling  of  one  who  has  clam- 
bered with  difficulty  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  and  pre- 
pares hopefully  to  rim  down  to  the  bottom  again, 
knowing  that  the  distance,  though  the  same,  will 
seem  shorter  as  one's  steps  are  accelerated.  I  had 
received  no  visit  from  home  during  the  whole  long 
fortnight,  which  made  me  sad,  as  other  girls  were 
daily  sent  for  to  see  their  friends.  My  heart  used 
to  beat  fast  with  hope  when  the  servant  whose 
business  it  was  to  summon  pupils  to  the  parlor 
appeared  at  the  school-room  door,  and  then  sink 
with  disappointment  when  another  name  than 
mine  was  called.  But  quite  early  one  Saturday 
morning  my  turn  came,  and  "Miss  Louisa  God- 
dard"  was  asked  for.  How  musically  Bridget's 
brogue  sounded  in  pronouncing  my  name  !  I  was 
so  dizzy  with  delight  that  I  could  hardly  walk 
out  of  the  school-room,  and  the  girls  nodded  and 
looked  at  me  kindly  as  I  passed  the  rows  of  desks. 

B 


66  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

Indeed,  had  my  stay  in  the  Convent  been  pro- 
longed, I  should  of  course  have  recovered  from 
homesickness,  made  friends  with  the  girls  of  my 
class,  and  been  very  happy.  On  this  Saturday  I 
certainly  was  so,  for  my  father,  whom  I  found  in 
the  parlor,  told  me  that,  notwithstanding  the  rule 
of  the  school,  the  Superior  had  given  him  permis- 
sion to  take  me  home  to  spend  Sunday.  I  sup- 
pose he  had  had  a  conference  with  Sister  Mary 
Benedict,  the  lovely  Nun  whose  business  it  was 
to  fascinate  visitors,  and  the  ruling  powers  had 
decided  that  an  early  visit  home  would  assuage 
my  homesickness,  I  being  an  unusual  sufferer 
from  that  disease.  I  know  I  was  very  grateful 
to  the  Superior  for  the  permission,  as  I  flew  up 
stairs  through  the  solitary  halls  and  dressed  in 
the  empty  dormitory. 

What  happy  days  were  the  Saturday  and  Sun- 
day I  passed  at  home !  With  what  absorbed 
attention  my  little  brothers  and  sisters,  from  ten 
years  old  to  two,  listened  to  my  school  experiences, 
ranged  about  me  as  I  sat  on  the  pump-platform 
in  the  garden,  —  a  flight  of  short  steps  of  which 


TWO  HAPPY  DAYS  AT  HOME,  G7 

I  was  the  top-stair.  With  what  solicitude  I  nursed 
and  fed  my  doll,  waking  her  from  her  fortnight's 
nap,  and  how  pleased  I  was  when  my  black  rab- 
bit, to  whom  I  made  an  immediate  visit,  loped 
up  in  a  friendly  way,  and  wiggled  his  nose  up 
and  down  against  my  hand.  A  body-guard  of 
children  escorted  me  to  the  stable,  —  the  summer 
baby-house,  which  was  under  a  convenient  pile 
of  planks,  for  the  benefit  of  the  dolls'  health,  who 
were  then  supposed  to  be  boarding  in  the  country, 
—  and  to  the  purple-plum  tree,  where  I  was  made 
to  sit  down,  while  my  sister  Lucretia  tore  her  pin- 
afore in  climbing  up  to  the  most  eligible  slialcing 
place.  My  mother  tried  to  talk  to  me  about  my 
clothes,  and  my  father  about  my  studies,  but  I 
am  afraid  I  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  their 
words  of  wisdom.  Monday  morning  came  only 
too  soon  ■  it  seemed  impossible  I  should  have 
been  at  home  two  days,  and  I  felt  that  when  T 
returned  to  the  Convent  my  visit  would  only 
appear  like  one  of  those  vivid  dreams  of  home 
that  were  at  once  my  solace  and  my  misery.  I 
assured    my    mother   of  this,    with    tears    rolling 


68  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

down  my  checks,  and  I  begged  her  at  least  to 
let  me  take  my  doll  back  with  me,  as  a  proof 
that  I  had  been  awake.  I  told  her  I  was  not  a 
bit  ashamed  to  be  the  only  girl  in  the  Senior  class 
who  played  with  a  doll ;  and  she  at  last  consented. 
Then  I  vowed  to  my  dear  Claribel  to  be  so  devoted 
to  her  that  she  should  never  suffer  as  I  had  from 
homesickness,  even  though  she  should  have  no 
companion  in  the  Senior  class,  and  should  be  for- 
bidden by  the  rules  to  get  acquainted  with  any 
doll  in  the  Junior  class,  however  desirable.  My 
sister  Anne  generously  lent  me  a  small  trunk  in 
which  to  pack  Claribel's  clothes,  we  both  lament- 
ing that  there  was  no  time  to  put  her  into  uni- 
form, and  in  return  I  gave  Anne  my  bun  kitten, 
in  whose  character,  as  she  developed  into  cathood, 
I  was  in  truth  disappointed.  In  the  most  slovenly 
manner  she  had  already  dirtied  and  torn  her  whole 
month's  wardrobe  of  ribbons,  that  I  had  so  care- 
fully prepared  for  her;  and,  worse  still,  she  had 
caught  a  mouse,  and  showed  a  determination  to 
catch  more,  — a  thing  for  which  in  her  early  youth 
I  had  hoped  she  had  a  special  antipathy. 


DANGER   THREATENS.  GO 

On  the  whole,  I  made  my  second  journey  to 
school  with  a  lighter  heart  than  I  bore  in  my 
bosom  on  the  first,  Claribel  clasped  in  my  arms, 
and  my  feet  resting  on  her  trunk  as  my  father 
and  I  again  drove  from  Dorchester  to  Charlestown 
in  the  chaise.  He  had  been  strongly  advised  not 
to  allow  me  to  return,  some  of  his  friends  assur- 
ing him  that  the  dislike  and  suspicion  which  had 
long  been  growing  against  the  Convent  had  at  last 
reached  positive  hatred,  and  that  its  destruction 
was  opeuly  threatened.  But  my  father  still 
laughed  these  apprehensions  to  scorn,  and  was 
totally  incredulous  of  danger  to  the  Convent.  I 
had  listened  with  great  interest  to  these  conver- 
sations between  my  father  and  his  friends,  and  I 
quite  understood  them,  for  at  school  I  had  heard 
the  older  pupils  talking  the  matter  over  eagerly, 
and  I  was  familiar  with  the  story  of  Sister  Mary 
John's  escape  and  recapture.  I  had  besides  "  as- 
sisted" at  various  disputes  held  among  the  girls 
about  that  notorious  book,  "  Six  Months  in  a  Con- 
vent," and  the  character  of  its  author.  Sectarian 
spirit   ran  very  high,  —  the   Catholic  girls  vehe- 


70  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

mently  denouncing  her,  and  declaring  her  book  to 
be  one  long  falsehood,  while  a  few  bigoted  Protes- 
tants were  sure  there  wras  much  to  be  said  on  her 
side.  Most  of  the  pupils  were  quite  indifferent, 
however,  to  the  subject,  save  that  they  enjoyed 
the  fun  of  listening  to  the  quarrel. 

So  on  this  my  return  journey  to  the  Convent, 
I  was  not  surprised  to  find  my  father  stopped  on 

the  wTay  by  an  old  acquaintance,  Mr.  C ,  whom 

we  met  driving  rapidly  out  of  town  on  his  way 
to  our  house,  liis  errand  being  to  warn  my  father 
of  the  certainty  of  danger  to  the  Convent.  When 
he  passed  us,  he  made  a  sign  to  my  father  to  halt, 
sprang  out  of  his  vehicle,  laid  his  hand  on  the 
reins,  and  was  almost  ready  to  force  my  father  to 
turn  about,  while  he  rapidly  and  eagerly  repeated 
to  him  facts  that  had  come  to  his  knowledge  re- 
specting the  designs  of  certain  ill-conditioned  per- 
sons on  the  Ursuline  Convent.  I  heard  the  word 
"mob"  used  by  him  several  times,  and  the  assur- 
ance that  the  very  Monday  night  just  approaching 
had  been  fixed  upon  by  the  "mob"  for  the  de- 
struction  of  the   "Nunnery,"   as  they  called  it. 


TIIE  CONVENT  IN  COMMOTION.  71 

How  I  did  hope  my  father  would  listen  to  Mr. 

C and  turn  back !     Not  that  the  idea  of  a 

mob  frightened  me,  though  I  had  read  of  the 
French  Revolution,  and  my  mother  had  described 
the  Bread  Riots  in  England,  which  she  had  her- 
self witnessed  ;  but  it  would  be  so  nice  to  go  home 
again  and  surprise  the  children  !  Still  my  father 
shook  his  head  incredulously,  declared  there  was 
no  possible  danger  to  be  feared  for  the  Convent, 

and  Mr.   C left  him  very  reluctantly,  after 

using  some  strong  language  of  disapproval,  at 
which  papa  only  laughed.  So  on  we  drove  again, 
aud  I  was  somewhat  consoled  for  my  disappoint- 
ment in  not  returning  home  by  feeling  myself  a 
sort  of  heroine. 

And  on#reaching  Mount  Benedict  I  found  the 
whole  school  in  commotion.  Instead  of  silence 
and  emptiness  in  the  halls,  girls  were  actually 
passing  through  them  ;  there  was  no  studying  in 
the  Senior  school-room,  but  the  older  girls  drew 
crowding  round  Sister  Mary  Austin  talking  eagerly, 
while  the  younger  ones  pressed  close  behind  to 
listen,  or  followed  their  own  devices  at  their  desks. 


72  TEE  BURN  IX  G    OF   THE   COX  VENT. 

I  had  expected  to  be  told  to  put  my  doll  into  my 
trunk  till  afternoon  recreation,  but  no  notice  was 
taken  of  her,  and  I  hastened  to  hide  her  in  my 
desk,  and  put  her  trunk  underneath  it.  Alas, 
alas,  dearest  Claribel !  little  did  I  think  that  I 
was  looking  on  your  face  for  the  last  time,  as  I 
tenderly  covered  it  with  a  bit  of  blotting-paper, 
and  hid  it  behind  "Blair's  Rhetoric"  As  soon 
as  these  maternal  duties  were  finished,  I  joined 
the  circle  about  Sister  Mary  Austin,  and  learned 
that  great  events  had  happened  in  my  absence. 
Floating  rumors  of  designs  against  the  Convent 
had  of  course  reached  the  Nuns  from  time  to  time, 
but  as  the  Bishop  disbelieved  utterly  in  them,  of 
course  so  did  these  poor  helpless  women.  But  on 
the  very  Saturday  which  began  my  little  holiday 
the  Superior  had  received  formal  notice  that  she 
was  in  danger,  —  she,  her  community,  and  the 
building  they  occupied, — from  the  Selectmen  of 
Charlestown,  and  in  a  few  hours  afterward  they 
sent  up  a  committee,  chosen  from  their  number, 
to  consult  with  the  Superior  as  to  what  should 
be  done  for  her  defence,  and  to  ask  permission  to 


THE  SUPERIOR  INDIGNANT.  73 

examine  the  vaults  of  the  building.  They  wished 
to  be  able  to  contradict  the  report,  generally 
believed,  that  there  were  cells  under  the  Convent, 
used  for  the  punishment  of  the  refractory  Nuns, 
and  also  secret  places  of  torment  and  iniquity. 
The  Superior  failed  to  appreciate  the  kind  motives 
of  these  worthy  Selectmen ;  she  was  furiously  in- 
dignant at  the  abominable  stories  in  circulation 
about  her  and  her  community,  and  when  their 
committee  were  admitted  to  her  presence,  she 
overwhelmed  them  with  a  torrent  of  invectives, 
refused  to  allow  them  to  examine  her  cellars,  and 
if  she  had  possessed  the  power,  she  would  have 
scourged  them  from  her  gate.  She  appeared  to 
hold  them  responsible  for  stories  which  they  only 
repeated.  But  Sister  Mary  John,  the  Mother 
Assistant,  received  the  deputation  of  Selectmen  in 
a  very  different  spirit.  She  considered  herself  the 
innocent  cause  of  the  reports  that  were  blasting 
the  reputation  of  the  Convent,  and  perhaps  bring- 
ing destruction  upon  it ;  and  she  besought  the 
Superior  to  allow  her  to  explain  the  facts  relative 
to  her  illness  and  its  results,  in  presence  of  the 
4 


74  TIIE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

committee.  She  did  so  with  all  her  eloquence, 
and  with  such  an  air  of  truth  that  the  gentlemen 
appeared  to  believe  her  entirely,  and  they  prom- 
ised to  publish  a  card  in  Monday  morning's  papers, 
explaining  the  circumstances  that  had  led  to  the 
story  of  the  escaped  Nun,  recaptured  and  brought 
back  to  the  cells  of  the  underground  Convent 
against  her  will,  which,  as  they  now  believed,  and 
as  she  assured  them,  had  their  origin  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  her  illness. 

On  Monday  morning  this  statement  appeared 
in  the  papers,  but  coupled  with  an  account  of  the 
reception  given  the  committee  of  Charlestown 
Selectmen  by  the  Superior  of  the  Convent,  and 
her  refusal  to  allow  them  to  examine  the  cellars  of 
the  building  for  themselves.  She  had  received 
visits  also  from  other  gentlemen,  —  some  dictated 
by  friendship,  others  by  curiosity,  —  and  her  vio- 
lent language  and  arrogant  bearing  had  displeased 
many  even  of  her  friends  ;  while  others  applauded 
her  courage.  Of  course,  exaggerated  accounts  of 
her  behavior  quickly  circulated  among  those  who 
were  looking  for  every  pretext  to  destroy  at  least 


NINE  HOURS  DAILY  SILENCE.  75 

her  position,  if  not  herself  and  the  institution  over 
which  she  ruled.  She  must  have  raised  many  ene- 
mies against  herself  during  the  years  of  her  abso- 
lute and  domineering  rule  on  Mount  Benedict. 

There  was  no  school  during  that  Monday  morn- 
ing after  my  return ;  confusion  and  excitement 
reigned  during  the  hours  usually  devoted  to  strict 
silence.  For  nine  hours  daily  silence  was  enforced 
among  the  pupils,  while  I  was  among  them  ;  be- 
side observing  it  during  school-hours,  we  were 
obliged  to  do  so  at  meals,  at  matin  and  vesper 
hours,  and  in  the  school-room,  except  when  half- 
hours  of  recreation  were  allowed  by  the  presiding 
teacher.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  should  never 
become  accustomed  to  those  nine  daily  hours  of 
silence,  but  the  old  pupils  consoled  themselves 
under  their  monotony  by  looking  forward  to  the 
fete-days,  the  holidays,  and  half-holidays,  which 
were  frequent  during  term-time.  And  a  deal  of 
whispering  was  done  by  the  experienced  scholars, 
who  seemed  to  enjoy  forbidden  "  communication  " 
as  it  was  called,  carried  on  under  fear  of  discovery, 
better  than  if  it  had  been  permitted. 


7G  TEE  BURNING   OF  TEE  CONVENT. 

I  could  not  help  uoticing  how  much  the  poor 
Sisters  were  excited  on  that  Monday  morning  by 
the  condition  of  things,  and  how,  after  all,  they 
seemed  to  enjoy  it.  Sister  Mary  Austin  forgot  to 
yawn,  and  actually  laughed  aloud  as  the  pupils 
caricatured  the  embarrassment  of  the  Selectmen 
on  their  Saturday  visit,  aud  their  awkward  man- 
ner of  filing  in  and  out  of  the  doors.  Sounds  of 
similar  mirth  came  through  the  open  windows 
from  the  other  school-rooms,  —  it  was  like  an 
unexpected  holiday.  Even  unwholesome  excite- 
ments are  welcome  to  people  living  in  such  abso- 
lute, dull  seclusion  as  did  the  Nuns,  and  in  their 
ignorance  and  innocence  they  could  not  foresee 
the  possibility  of  real  danger,  when  they  had  done 
absolutely  nothing  to  deserve  it.  As  for  the  Su- 
perior, her  strong  will,  violent  temper,  and  natural 
courage  made  her  not  unwilling  to  dwell  on  the 
idea  of  danger  which  she  felt  herself  strong  enough 
to  meet,  and  she  consoled  the  more  timid  of  the 
Sisters  by  telling  them  that  there  were  Catholic 
Irishmen  enough  in  Boston  to  defend  them  in  case 
they  were  attacked. 


AX  EXCITED  DANCING-SCHOOL.  77 

On  Monday  afternoon  Mrs.  Barrymore  the  dan- 
cing-mistress appeared  as  usual,  full  of  sympathy 
with  the  Sisters,  and  indignation  at  the  abomina- 
ble stories  in  circulation  against  the  Convent,  some 
of  which  had  got  into  the  papers,  besides  the  oft- 
repeated  legend  of  the  escaped  Nun.  There  was 
much  controversy  between  the  friends  and  ene- 
mies of  the  Convent  as  to  the  truth  of  these 
stories,  so  Mrs.  Barrymore  said ;  also  as  to  wheth- 
er the  Boston  truckmen  would  dare  to  carry  out 
their  threats  of  attacking  the  building,  and 
whether  such  violence  would  or  would  not  be 
excusable  under  the  circumstances.  Mrs.  Barry- 
more, herself  a  Catholic,  laughed  at  the  idea  of  a 
mob,  and  comforted  the  Nuns  with  strong  expres- 
sions of  her  disbelief.  In  her  excitement  she 
taught  the  pupils  that  afternoon  con  amove,  and 
the  pupils,  equally  excited,  never  "  took  their 
steps  "  more  vigorously.  Never  were  higher  jumps 
taken  in  the  assemblies,  longer  runs  in  the  chassis, 
wider  circles  in  the  Pas  le  Basque.  The  lay  Sis- 
ters whose  business  it  was  to  dress  us  sent  us  all 
to    the  dancing-hall    in  our  very  best  clothes ;  I 


78  TEE  BURNING    OF   TEE   CONVENT. 

suppose  it  was  their  way  of  expressing  excitement. 
The  Superior  came  in  to  look  upon  us,  as  was 
her  habit  on  great  occasions  when  new  dances  had 
been  learned,  or  when  a  favorite  pupil  was  to  per- 
form the  Highland  Fling  or  the  Cachucha  before 
her  admiring  schoolmates.  "We  stopped  dancing, 
and  turned  towards  her,  courtesying,  as  she  moved 
among  us  with  gracious  dignity,  and  seated  her- 
self at  the  head  of  the  room.  A  waltz-quadrille 
followed,  in  which  I  acquitted  myself  so  well  that 
Mrs.  Barrymore  patted  me  on  the  shoulder  with 
her  usual  phrase  of  commendation,  "  Excellent 
well,  my  dear."  But  yet  another  honor  was  in 
store  for  me.  While  I  was  still  blushing  with 
pleasure  at  this  word  of  praise  from  the  strict 
Mrs.  Barrymore,  a  little  Junior  ran  up  breathless 
to  tell  me  that  I  had  been  selected  to  fan  the 
Superior  that  afternoon,  and  to  bring  me  into  the 
Presence. 

Behold  me,  then,  mounted  on  the  high  stool  of 
honor  at  the  Superior's  side,  very  warm  myself 
after  dancing,  but  afraid  to  direct  the  fan  in  such 
a  way  as  to  take  from  her  any  air  for  the  cooling 


I  FAN  TEE  SUPERIOR. 


of  my  own  face.  I  don't  know  why  she  chose  to 
give  me  the  privilege  of  fanning  her;  I  could  not 
have  been  a  favorite  in  so  short  a  time,  dull  and 
unhappy  as  I  had  been  from  homesickness  too. 
Perhaps  she  thought  it  could  not  outlast  this 
mark  of  attention,  even  if  my  visit  to  her  room  on 
a  previous  Sunday  had  failed  to  cure  me.  Per- 
haps she  wished  to  make  friends  with  the  Mam- 
mon of  Unrighteousness  at  this  period  of  her  life, 
and  thought  my  father's  influence  might  stand 
her  in  good  stead  if  she  could  win  his  support  by 
graciousness  to  me.  But  dear  me  !  —  it  just  oc- 
curs to  me,  —  how  strange  to  find  myself  account- 
ing so  gravely  and  at  such  length  for  so  trivial  a 
circumstance  !  It  shows  the  strength  of  that  con- 
ventual influence  which  managed  to  impress  even 
upon  the  newest  pupils  the  vital  importance  of 
the  Superior's  every  act;  so  that  to  this  day  I 
find  myself  acknowledging  it. 

Well,  after  all,  I  found  my  place  at  the  Supe- 
rior's side  on  that  Monday  afternoon  a  very  inter- 
esting one,  especially  as  she  often  forgot  me  and 
my  fan  altogether,  so  that  I  had  many  opportuni- 


80  THE  BURNING    OF  THE   CONVENT. 

ties  of  resting  my  arm  or  fanning  myself  furtively. 
In  the  intervals  of  dancing  she  would  send  for 
certain  of  the  older  pupils  —  she  never  beckoned 
to  any  one  —  to  come  near  her,  and  she  held  with 
them  animated  conversations  in  regard  to  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  she  and  the  Convent  were 
placed.  She  ridiculed  unsparingly  not  only  those 
who  believed  the  reports  against  her,  but  those 
who  dared  to  tell  her  that  she  was  in  danger ; 
particularly  the  Selectmen  of  Charlestown,  and 
their  deputation,  whom  she  called  vulgarians,  ple- 
beians, shop-keepers,  and  what  not.  She  gloried 
in  her  haughty  reception  of  them,  and  in  her  re- 
fusal to  meet  their  wishes ;  and  the  girls,  flattered 
by  her  condescension  in  talking  to  them  as  equals, 
naturally  sympathized  and  agreed  with  her,  and 
those  who  were  able  outdid  her  in  sarcasm  and 
vehemence.  Mrs.  Barrymore,  too,  came  up  occa- 
sionally, wiping  her  warm  face,  and  added  her 
word  of  approval  to  the  indignation-meeting  round 
the  Superior's  chair. 

In  the  midst  of  this  talk  the  portress  was  seen 
approaching,  passing  through  the  girls  with  bowed 


THE   CriARLESTOWN  SELECTMAN.  81 

head  and  clasped  hands,  and  at  last,  bending  low 
before  the  Superior,  "  Another  Selectman  from 
Charlestown  was  in  the  parlor,"  she  said,  in  the 
subdued  voice  nsed  by  the  servants  in  addressing 
their  Sovereign  Lady,  "  and  requested  to  see  the 
Superior  on  urgent  business."  The  "  Mother  Ab- 
bess," to  use  another  of  her  titles,  flamed  up  at 
once,  and  after  scolding  the  portress  roundly,  — 
"  For  you  know  I  ordered  you  not  to  admit 
another  messenger  from  Charlestown  on  any  ac- 
count," she  said,  —  she  ordered  her  to  go  back 
and  shut  the  door  in  the  man's  face,  if  nothing 
else  would  make  him  go.  The  portress  made  no 
answer,  of  course,  for  the  Superior  never  allowed 
such  an  act  of  independence,  but  it  was  evident 
she  retired  reluctantly  to  fulfil  this  command. 
Soon  she  reappeared,  still  moving  humbly  forward, 
but  too  much  agitated  to  preserve  her  usual  air 
of  submission.  "  Madame,  the  man  refuses  to  go, 
and  pray  hear  me,  Madame ! "  she  supplicated, 
seeing  the  Superior  about  to  burst  into  a  rage ; 
"he  says  this  Convent  is  really  in  great  danger, 
that  even  this  very  night  it  may  be  attacked,  — 
4*  f 


82  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

he  says  the  Selectmen  have  sent  him  to  get  your 
permission  to  go  into  the  cellars  and  examine 
them  thoroughly,  so  that  an  affidavit  can  be  made 
for  the  evening  papers,  —  there  is  nothing  wrong 
there,  Madame,  and  the  Selectmen  want  to  swear 
positively  that  they  know  it,  that  they  have  seen 
for  themselves,  —  the  man  says  it  may  be  too  late, 
even  now,  but  unless  such  a  card  is  published  this 
evening  they  won't  answer  for  the  consequences, 
and  it  is  all  they  can  do  for  us."  I  don't  remem- 
ber the  exact  words,  but  this  is  the  substance  of 
what  the  poor  frightened  portress  managed  to  say, 
in  spite  of  several  violent  interruptions  from  the 
Superior.  Even  then  that  infatuated  woman  was 
obdurate.  "  Stop  whimpering,  you  fool ! "  she 
cried,  in  her  imperious  way,  —  "I  won't  allow  my 
premises  to  be  searched.  I  'm  not  afraid  of  any- 
body, — the  Bishop  is  my  adviser  when  I  need 
one.  The  Selectmen  of  Charlestown  are  old  wo- 
men, —  no  doubt  they  're  afraid.  It  is  their  busi- 
ness to  protect  us,  whatever  happens,  and  without 
any  conditions,  and  send  the  man  back  to  tell 
them  so." 


WANTS    TO  SEARCH   THE  CELLAR.  83 

And  now  Sister  Mary  John,  tall,  thin,  angular, 
entered  the  room,  and  hurried  up  to  the  Superior, 
more  quickly  than  etiquette  warranted.  She  was 
weeping,  though  she  made  a  great  effort  to  com- 
mand her  tears  and  to  control  her  trembling  -voice, 
so  that  she  might  speak  with  proper  submission 
of  manner.  She  implored  the  Superior  not  to 
send  away  this  man,  who  came  in  a  friendly 
spirit ;  something  she  added  about  the  value  even 
of  one  friend  in  the  midst  of  a  community  of  ene- 
mies, and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  the 
visitor  to  the  cellar  of  the  building,  and  to  show 
him,  herself,  every  part  of  the  basements  that  he 
desired  to  see.  I  remember  the  violent  opposition 
of  the  Superior  to  this  request,  and  a  vehement, 
hurried  argument  between  her  and  Sister  Mary 
John ;  but  the  latter  at  length  prevailed  ;  indeed, 
she  was  in  so  very  nervous  a  condition  that  it  was 
hardly  prudent  to  refuse  her.  She  hurried  away 
in  an  eager,  flurried  manner,  her  eyes  swollen 
with  crying,  her  nose  red,  —  and  a  large  nose  is 
the  only  feature  of  her  face  I  distinctly  remember, 
—  and  wringing  her  pocket-handkerchief  between 


84  THE  BURNING    OF   THE  CONVENT. 

her  hands.  Then  came  a  scene  of  confusion  :  the 
Superior  suddenly  rose  and  followed  the  Mother 
Assistant;  the  school,  disturbed  by  the  unusual 
interruption,  broke  up  in  a  hurry ;  some  of  the 
Sisters  appeared  among  us,  greatly  excited ;  some 
of  the  pupils  ran  into  the  main  hall,  others 
crowded  out  upon  a  balcony  overlooking  the  usual 
door  of  entrance.  A  degree  of  order  was  at  last 
restored,  and  we  all  flocked  into  our  usual  school- 
rooms. Here  a  hubbub  of  voices  rose,  the  girls 
describing  to  Sister  Mary  Austin,  and  commenting 
to  one  another  on  what  had  just  passed.  It 
seems  that  the  Superior,  after  leaving  the  dancing- 
hall  so  suddenly,  overtook  Sister  Mary  John  on 
her  way  to  the  main  cellar  door,  lantern  in  hand, 
and  accompanied  by  the  Selectman,  and,  revoking 
the  permission  she  had  given,  she  positively  for- 
bade her  to  go  a  step  farther.  She  snatched  the 
lantern  from  the  Mother  Assistant,  thrust  it  into 
the  hand  of  her  unlucky  companion,  flung  open 
the  cellar  door,  and  pointed  down  the  stairs  with 
a  peremptory  gesture.  "  There,  sir,"  she  cried, 
"  if  you  want  to  play  the  spy  in  my  house,  you 


HE  DECLINES    THE  JOB.  85 

shall  do  it  alone.  I  won't  allow  any  one  of  the 
Sisters  to  enter  that  cellar  on  your  account.  Go 
down,  sir,  with  your  lantern,  and  look  about  at 
your  leisure,  —  there  is  no  man  here  to  prevent 
you."  The  poor  citizen  from  Charlestown  hesi- 
tated, stepped  forward,  the  gulf  below  yawned  dark 
as  Erebus,  he  stepped  back  again;  and  at  last, 
fairly  daunted  by  the  Superior's  eye,  he  suddenly 
put  down  the  lantern,  and  hurried  out  of  the 
building  as  fast  as  he  could.  The  Superior's 
laugh  of  derision  followed  him,  and  it  was  echoed 
by  the  girls,  who  had  crowded  into  the  hall  to 
witness  the  proceedings.  Probably  the  poor  man 
drew  a  breath  of  relief  as  he  prepared  to  walk 
down  the  avenue,  after  leaving  the  Convent;  he 
was  seen  to  stop  and  mop  his  face,  as  he  emerged 
from  the  door,  with  a  yellow  bandanna  handker- 
chief,—  another  object  of  ridicule  for  the  girls. 
But  his  troubles  were  not  yet  over;  he  was  as- 
sailed with  a  volley  of  sarcastic  remarks  by  the 
pupils,  who  had  rushed  out  upon  the  balcony  to 
watch  his  departure.  Allowed,  for  the  first  time 
in  their  experience  at  the  Convent,  perfect  free- 


86  THE  BURNING   OF   THE  CONVENT. 

dom  of  speech  and  of  action,  they  felt  bound  to 

take  the  part  of  the  Sisters  who  thus  indulged 

them,  and  they  were  indeed  encouraged  by  those 

poor  unreasoning  women — big  children  themselves 

—  to  give  their  tongues  full  liberty.    "  He  's  afraid, 

he 's  afraid,  —  he  dares  n\  he  dares  tit"  cried  some. 

"  He 's  tumbled  into  the  ash-heap  ;  see  how  pale  he 

is  ! "     "  He  was  n't  afraid,  he  did  go  down,  and  he 

saw  a  ghost,  and  that  makes  him  pale,"  screamed 

others.     "  See  his  pocket-handkerchief,  it 's  turned 

yellow  with  fright,"  cried  a  shrill  voice.     One  pupil 

of  a  literary  turn  fired  this  parting  shot  after  the 

victim  of  these  exquisite  witticisms  :  — 

"  Curiosity  came  from  Heaven  : 
Its  power  selectmen  knew  ! " 

"Who  wrote  that?"  asked  an  admiring  friend 
of  this  literary  young  lady  afterwards,  in  the 
school-room.  "Why,  don't  you  know1?"  replied 
the  other  with  an  air;  "the  man  that  wrote  the 
First  Class  Book,  of  course.  I  got  it  out  of  that." 
Poor  Sister  Mary  Austin  was  bewildered  with  de- 
light and  surprise,  as  the  girls  buzzed  about  her, 
telling  her  how  they  had  tormented  and  put  down 


WHAT   THE  GIRLS  SAID.  87 

"  that  horrid  man  "  with  these  impertinences ;  she 
wondered  at  the  ready  wit  of  her  pupils. 

How  well  I  remember  all  that  happened  on 
that  Monday !  As  I  had  not  taken  any  part  in 
the  martyrdom  of  the  unfortunate  Selectman,  and 
had  cudgelled  my  brains  in  vain  to  get  up  some 
remark  that  should  be  thought  worth  listening  to 
in  the  general  fire  of  wit,  I  remained  unnoticed 
in  the  crowd  of  tall,  eager  girls,  and  went  about 
from  group  to  group,  attentive  to  every  word  that 
was  uttered.  The  report  that  the  Convent  was 
to  be  att-acked  that  very  night  by  a  mob  had 
spread  through  the  whole  school,  causing  a  vast 
excitement,  but  no  real  belief.  "  Of  course,"  one 
girl  would  say,  "my  papa,  who  lives  in  Boston, 
must  know  all  about  it,  and  he  would  never  let 
me  stay  here  if  such  a  dreadful  thing  was  going 
to  happen."  "Neither  would  my  aunt  Jane," 
"Nor  my  grandmother  either,"  "Nor  uncle  Ned," 
cried  one  and  another,  and  this  seemed  to  be  the 
opinion  of  all  the  girls  old  enough  to  reason. 
"  How  nice  it  would  be,"  exclaimed  one  of  the 
younger  girls,   "  if  all  our  folks  in  Boston  would 


88  THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

club  together  and  charter  the  Charlestown  stage, 
and  send  for  a  lot  of  us  to  go  home  to-night ! " 

One    of  her  schoolmates,   Katie   L ,   laughed 

derisively.  "  My  mamma  would  send  her  own 
private  carriage  if  she  thought  there  was  any 
danger,"  said  Katie,  who  was  a  bit  of  a  snob. 
"  Well,  what  is  there  odd  in  my  thinking  of  the 
Charlestown  stage,"  said  the  first  speaker,  "when 
we  have  been  hearing  the  noise  of  carriage-wheels 
outside,  ever  since  'dancing'  was  over'?  Just  as 
it  was  on  Coronation  Day,  when  the  stage  was 
coming  and  going  till  dark  !  "  "  That  's  true," 
remarked  another.  "  I  never  knew  the  Superior 
to  have  so  much  company  as  she  has  had  this 
afternoon."  "  I  do  w7ish  we  could  see  the  car- 
riages as  wrell  as  hear  them,"  said  Katie  L . 

"  I  dare  say  my  mamma  has  been  here  in  her  car- 
riage this  very  clay,  for  she  and  the  Superior  are 
great  friends,  }~ou  know." 

While  she  was  speaking  I  noticed  the   lovely 

Creole,  Louisa  M ,  lolling  indolently  against 

a  desk,  on  the  top  of  which  Susanne  P wTas 

perched  cross-legged,  her  hands  clasped  round  her 


LOUISA  AND  SUSAN NE.  89 

knees  as  usual.  They  were  both  listening  and 
saying  nothing,  these  girls  from  the  extreme 
north  and  south,  whose  friends  were  too  far  away 
to  come  to  their  aid,  were  it  necessary.  I  remem- 
ber, because  it  was  a  deviation  from  the  customary 
uniform,  that  Louisa  was  dressed  in  a  buff  crape, 
made  low  in  the  neck,  with  a  surplice  waist,  as 
was  the  fashion  then,  in  which  she  looked  charm- 
ingly, and  a  heavy  gold  chain,  with  a  cross  at- 
tached, was  clasped  round  her  slender  throat. 
This  she  was  lazily  fingering  as  she  reclined,  and 
I  noticed  the  purple  discoloration  of  her  almond- 
shaped  nails  as  she  did  so.  "  If  my  mamma 
should   send   for  me  in  the  carriage,"  continued 

Katie  L ,  who  was  of  a  generous  nature,  "  I 

would  make  room  for  you  two  girls,"  and  she 
nodded  to  Louisa  and  Susanne,  "  because  all  your 
folks  are  so  far  off,  and  we  've  got  any  quantity 
of  spare  room  in  our  house  where  you  could  sleep ; 
would  n't  that  be  nice  1 "  she  added,  rather  anx- 
iously, as  neither  of  the  girls  spoke.  Louisa  did 
not  take  the  trouble  to  lift  her  eyelids,  heavy  with 
their  black  lashes,  but  she  opened  her  red  lips 


90  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

just  wide  enough  to  murmur,  in  her  slow  Spanish 
accent,  "It  would  be  mooch  trouble,  thank  you, 
—  but  I  hope  noting  will  happen."  But  Susanne's 
eyes  opened  wide,  and  the  light  of  battle  was  in 
them,  —  how  they  glowed  !  In  a  loud,  clear  voice 
she  first  said,  "But  I  would  not  leave  ! "  and  then 
subsided  into  her  usual  silence. 

Here  the  Superior  entered  with  even  more  than 
her  usual  breeziness,  hot  and  excited,  but  I  never 
saw  her  appear  tired.  She  had  just  dismissed  the 
numerous  visitors,  some  of  them  parents  of  pupils, 
who  had  driven  out  of  Boston  late  on  that  warm 
afternoon  to  assure  her,  and  reassure  themselves, 
that  there  was  no  danger  to  be  apprehended  that 
night,  or  any  other,  from  the  attack  of  a  mob. 
Such  a  thing  as  a  mob  did  not  exist,  and  never 
had  existed  in  Boston,  nor  was  there  material  out 
of  which  to  make  one,  —  such  was  their  unanimous 
conclusion.  We  hastily  prepared  to  make  obei- 
sance to  the  Superior  on  this  her  unusual  appear- 
ance among  us,  but  she  showed  no  disposition  to 
exact  our  reverences,  falling  into  easy  talk  with 
those  about  her,  as  if  she  really  felt  the  need  of 


SAGE  REFLECTIONS.  91 

our  sympathy.  In  a  few  minutes  she  withdrew 
as  abruptly  as  she  had  entered,  as  if  too  nervous 
to  remain  long  quiet  in  any  place. 

I  observed  a  small  group  of  the  very  oldest 
girls  standing  together  at  the  end  of  the  room, 
who  had  been  quiet,  moderate,  and  self-contained 
all  through  that  day  of  uproar  and  confusion.  I 
hastened  to  join  them,  half  fearing  they  would 
repulse  me,  as  they  seemed  to  be  talking  together 
with  a  confidential  air.  But  they  did  not ;  indeed, 
one  of  the  gravest  of  the  girls  made  way  for  me 
to  stand  at  her  side,  and  even  allowed  me  to  take 
her  hand,  looking  down  upon  me  with  a  kind 
smile.  I  could  not  quite  catch  the  meaning  of 
all  that  was  said,  but  I  perceived  that  these  girls 
disapproved  of  all  that  had  been  said  and  done 
in  the  Convent  that  day.  They  thought  the 
Superior  had  acted  very  strangely  with  regard  to 
the  Charlestown  Selectmen,  particularly  on  that 
afternoon.  They  said  she  should  have  allowed 
Sister  Mary  John  to  accompany  their  deputy  in 
his  examination  of  the  cellars  and  basements,  — 
treating  him  politely,  as  he  only  came  in  the  in- 


92  TITE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

terests  of  the  Convent,  and  explaining  again  to 
him  clearly  the  circumstances  relating  to  the  ill- 
ness of  the  Mother  Assistant.  They  also  thought 
that  the  Superior  should  have  condescended  to 
explain  to  him  her  relations  with  the  foolish  lying 
girl  who  had  written  "  Six  Months  in  a  Convent," 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  insure  the  facts  being  laid 
before  the  public.  And  they  were  all  disgusted 
with  the  behavior  of  the  pupils,  who  had  been  so 
impertinent  after  the  dancing-lesson,  and  aston- 
ished that  the  Sisters  should  have  been  so  foolish 
and  thoughtless  as  to  allow  and  encourage  it.  But 
I  discovered  that  they  too  disbelieved  in  the  com- 
ing mob,  for,  as  one  of  them  observed,  her  father 
would  surely  know  if  anything  of  the  kind  was 
to  be  apprehended,  and  he  would  have  sent  for 
her  to  come  home  at  once,  if  it  was  so.  Indeed, 
the  pupils,  with  but  few  exceptions,  big  and  little, 
wise  and  foolish,  though  they  liked  the  excitement 
of  talking  about  it,  had  no  real  apprehension  of 
danger,  feeling  sure  that  their  parents  and  guar- 
dians would  never  leave  them  to  meet  it  unpro- 
tected.    ' 


SETTING   UP  FOR  GOODNESS.  93 

Then  I   drifted  away  from  these  sober-talking 

Seniors,  and  encountered  Mary  H ,  of  whom 

I  had  seen  little  since  her  exhortation  to  me 
on  the  first  day  of  my  arrival  at  school.  I  had 
observed,  however,  that  she  was  "naughty"  no 
longer,  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  she  held  a  high 
place  in  her  class  for  "deportment"  as  well  as 
"study,"  though  she  was  one  of  the  youngest  of 
its  members.  As  w7e  were  again  schoolmates,  it 
seemed  natural  that  we  should  continue  to  be 
rivals,  and  in  that  case  that  I  too,  like  Miss 
Edgeworth's  Jessie,  should  set  up  for  goodness.  I 
had  already  suffered  considerably  in  trying  to  do 
this  at  home,  for  as  the  oldest  of  a  large  family  I 
had  been  expected  to  "  set  a  good  example  "  ever 
since  the  sister  next  me  in  age  was  a  baby  in  long- 
clothes.     But  even    if  it    should    turn   out   that 

Mary  H 's  standard  of  goodness  was  too  high 

for  me  to  reach,  I  was  determined  to  quarrel  with 
her  no  more,  —  no,  no,  we  were  too  old  to  "  get 
mad,"  or  "  put  out,"  with  each  other,  and  too  old 
also  to  "  stump  "  each  other  to  "  cut  up  shines," 
as   Dolly   the   cook,    whom   we    respectfully   ad- 


94  THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

dressed  as  "  black  lady,"  used  to  say.  Quarrel- 
ling would  be  improper  at  our  age,  and  I  resolved 
that  we  would  disagree  genteelly,  if  I  found  I 
could  not  keep  my  amiable  resolution. 

So  I  addressed  Mary  cordially,  and  we  fell  to 
talking  on  the  great  topic  of  the  day ;  would  the 
Convent  be  attacked  by  a  mob,  and,  if  so,  would 
the  attack  be  made  on  that  very  night?  Mary 
and  I  brought  our  wits  to  bear  on  the  question, 
and  as  I  was  really  anxious  to  believe  in  the  com- 
ing of  the  mob,  as  a  way  of  escape  from  the  Con- 
vent, and  as  Mary  was  polite  and  sympathetic,  we 
soon  talked  each  other  into  a  firm  faith  that  some- 
thing certainly  was  going  to  happen,  and  most 
likely  that  very  night.  And  if  so,  what  was  the 
best  way  to  meet  it  %  What  could  we  do  to  pre- 
pare for  the  mob,  in  case  it  should  come  1  I  sug- 
gested going  to  bed  in  our  clothes  ;  Mary  thought 
that  would  not  be  very  comfortable,  and,  besides, 
Sister  Mary  Austin  would  be  sure  to  find  us  out. 
I  insisted  —  at  least,  if  we  went  to  bed  dressed, 
we  should  be  all  ready  to  go  home  in  case  the 
delightful   chance  did  arrive.     Mary  suggested  a 


SYMPATHY  OFFERED.  95 

compromise,  — we  would  take  off  oar  frocks,  and 
slip  our  nightgowns  on  over  our  petticoats,  so  that 
we  should  seem  to  be  all  right  if  Sister  Mary 
Austin  chanced  to  look  at  us.  I  agreed  to  this, 
and  we  promised  each  other  solemnly  to  carry  this 
plan  into  effect.  We  shook  hands  upon  it.  I 
was  in  high  spirits,  feeling  somewhat  in  this  way  : 
as  I  could  not  go  home  unless  I  was  dressed,  it 
ought  to  follow  that  if  I  ivas  dressed  I  should  go 
home. 

"  Darling  Bella  "  now  called  Mary  awajr,  and  I, 
left  alone,  began  to  Pas  le  Basque  down  the 
school-room,  in  great  sweeps  from  side  to  side. 
But  my  heart  reproached  me  for  its  own  lightness 
when  I  suddenly  heard  the  sound  of  sobbing,  and 
presently  noticed  that  the  cover  of  one  of  the 
desks  was  raised,  and  that  the  sobs  came  from  be- 
hind it.  It  was  under  shelter  of  the  lids  of  our 
desks  that  we  did  our  crying  at  school,  and  it  wras 
not  considered  etiquette  to  notice  any  one  whose 
head  was  hidden  in  that  way.  But  I  ventured  to 
approach  this  time,  and  offer  consolation  in  school- 
girl  fashion,  —  by   putting   my    arm    round    the 


9G  THE  BURNING    OF   TIIE   CONVENT. 

shoulders,  shaken  with  sobs,  laying  my  cheek  as 
close  to  the  cheek  of  the  afflicted  one  as  her 
pocket-handkerchief  would  allow,  and  murmuring 
words  of  comfort.  To  be  sure  she  was  a  stranger 
to  me,  but  I  felt  quite  hurt  when  she  suddenly 
turned  her  back  upon  me,  jerked  me  away  with 
her  sharp  elbow,  and  muttered,  "  Do  let  me  alone, 
you  !"  I  looked  at  her  "particular  friend,"  who 
sat  near,  with  a  dejected  countenance.  "She's 
crying  because  she  's  afraid  that  mob  's  going  to 
come,"  said  the  friend,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  the 
little  head.  "  Is  it  possible,"  I  thought  to  myself, 
"that  she  is  crying  for  that?"  I  am  afraid  / 
should  have  wept  bitterly  if  I  had  been  made  to 
believe  that  the  mob  was  not  "going  to  come." 

Here  a  strange  voice,  calling  us  to  order,  made 
us  all  start,  and  the  sobbing  to  cease  suddenly. 
The  Vesper  hour  had  arrived,  and  poor  Sister 
Mary  Austin,  feeling  herself  entirely  incapable  of 
reducing  us  to  silence,  after  she  had  allowed  us  to 
remain  so  long  in  such  a  state  of  misrule,  was 
obliged  to  send  for  Sister  Mary  Benedict  to  enforce 
her  authority  ;  the  beautiful,  strong-minded    Sis- 


THE  LAST   VESPER  SERVICE.  97 

ter,  whose    very  look    compelled  obedience,  even 
before  her  voice  commanded  it. 

"We  hastened  to  settle  ourselves  in  our  seats, 
under  her  cold,  severe  eye,  and  when  order  was 
entirely  restored  and  silence  reigned,  a  monitor 
was  chosen  to  watch  over  the  school-room,  and, 
though  they  knew  it  not,  the  Nuns  departed  to 
join  with  their  companions  in  the  last  Vesper  ser- 
vice they  should  ever  hold  in  that  house.  The 
remembrance  of  that  hour,  even  now,  fills  me  with 
solemnity.  No  one  thought  of  rebelling  against 
long-accustomed  authority,  now  that  Sister  Mary 
Benedict  had  made  us  feel  that  our  period  of 
license  was  over,  and  the  girls  subsided  quickly 
into  a  stillness  so  deep  that  I  thought  I  could 
hear  the  beating  of  their  hearts,  as  well  as  the 
hurried  breathing,  which  could  not  be  controlled 
at  once  after  so  long  a  period  of  strong  excitement. 
Yet  when  the  solemn  Vesper-music  stole  upon  the 
silence,  rising  and  falling  in  minor  cadences,  the 
reaction  came,  the  excitement  gradually  abated, 
and  I  am  sure  those  of  the  girls  who  could  feel 
the  meaning  of  that  plaintive  singing  must  have 
5  G 


98  THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

shared  the  vague  yet  real  apprehension  and  anxi- 
ety that  gave  such  wondrous  expression  to  the 
voices  of  those  poor  Sisters. 

At  any  rate,  we  all  went  up  to  bed  in  serious 
mood,  just  as  the  twilight  was  fading,  —  for  I 
don't  think  I  have  mentioned  the  early  hour  of 
retirement  at  the  Convent,  half  past  seven  for 
Seniors  and  Juniors  alike, — and  at  the  time  of 
year  of  which  I  write  there  was  just  light  enough 
at  that  hour  for  us  to  undress  without  the  lantern, 
which,  in  winter,  swung  from  the  ceiling  of  the 
room,  and  just  made  darkness  visible. 

My  cot  was  next  but  one  to  an  end  window, 
and  the  young  girl  who  occupied  the  bed  between 
me  and  that  window  had  not  made  her  appearance 
at  school  since  the  close  of  vacation,  so  that  for 
the  time  I  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  a  double- 
bedded  room,  and  by  just  turning  my  head  to  the 
right,  a  wide  sky  view  through  the  uncurtained 
panes  that  belonged  to  the  corner  of  my  privileged 

neighbor.     The  oldest  W sister  slept  next  the 

end  window  opposite,  but  I  did  not  feel  enough 
acquainted  with  her  to  hazard  any  whispered  re- 


TO  BED,  DRESSED.  99 

mark  across  the  "  middle  passage,"  though  I  was 
very  anxious  to  know  what  her  opinion  really  was 
as  to  the  probable  events  of  the  night.  I  suspect 
she  thought  very  little  about  the  matter,  for  she 
undressed  quickly  with  many  loud  and  long  yawns, 
and  was  in  bed  and  asleep  before  I  had  managed 
to  slip  off  my  frock  and  put  on  my  nightgown 
over  the  rest  of  my  clothing,  for  I  was  resolved  to 
keep  my  agreement  with  Mary,  and  to  go  to  bed 
dressed,  if  Sister  Mary  Austin's  argus  eyes  would 
let  me,  —  she  usually  kept  so  close  a  watch  on 
our  toilet  proceedings.  That  night,  however,  she 
went  through  her  duties  mechanically,  and  took 
very  little  notice  of  us,  so  that  I  had  the  happi- 
ness of  carrying  out  my  plan,  and  of  lying  in  my 
petticoats,  in  a  delightful  perspiration,  with  the 
bedclothes  closely  drawn  up  under  my  chin,  so  as 
to  hide  any  peculiarity  in  my  appearance,  should 
the  Sister  glance  at  me  in  her  nightly  promenade 
down  the  "middle  aisle  "  of  the  dormitory.  Mary's 
bed  was  near  the  door,  a  long  way  from  mine,  and 
though  I  strained  my  eyes  in  the  fading  twilight, 
trying  to  watch  her,  I  could  not  see  whether  or 


100        THE  BURNING   OF   THE   COX  VEX T. 

no  she  had  kept  her  part  of  our  agreement  u  I 
undress  that  night. 

And  now  Sister  Mary  Austin  had  made  her 
final  passage  through  the  dormitory,  murmuring 
her  prayers  with  abstracted  look,  had  paused  at 
the  door  to  cross  herself,  and  utter  her  final 
"  Benedicite,"  or  whatever  pious  Latin  phrase 
serves  a  Religieuse  for  a  formal  '•  good  night." 
and  had  shut  us  in  to  repose.  As  for  me.  I  was 
so  wide  awake  that  I  could  not  even  close  my 
eyes.  and  I  lay.  I  knew  not  how  long,  but  it 
ned  to  me  for  half  the  night,  listening  to  the 
deep  breathing,  mingled  with  ar.  -    oal  snore, 

of  my  room-mates,  who  were  quite  weary  enough 
to  tail  asleep  at  once.  A  few  uneasy  ones  stirred 
on  their  pillows  and  muttered  some  unintelligible 
ps  still  disturbed  by  the  excitement 
of  the  day.  for  the  most  dyspeptic  would  not  have 
been  made  restless  by  our  supper  of  dry  bread 
and  milk. 

In  the  midst  of  these  heavy  sleepers  I  felt  my- 
self alone  in  the  room.  and.   becominir  more  and 
.:.      ..:'  rtal  le  and  hot  under  my  petl 


MOUNT  BENEDICT  AT  NIGHT.  101 

I  determined  to  stay  m  bed  no  longer.  So  I  rose 
softly  and  ventured  to  steal  to  the  end  window,  in 
the  alley  of  my  absent  neighbor,  from  which  a 
glimpse  of  the  avenue  and  the  Bishop's  house 
was  visible.  I  even  had  the  courage  to  raise  the 
window,  very  gently,  and  the  summer  night-wind 
suddenly  blowing  in  my  face  made  me  feel  as  if 
I  had  actually  stepped  out  doors.  I  folded  my 
arms  on  the  window-sill,  and  leaned  out  as  far  as  I 
could,  that  I  might  give  myself  up  to  the  illusion 
of  fancying  myself  out  in  the  night  alone,  when 
all  the  world  but  me  was  asleep. 

The  Convent,  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Bene- 
dict, stood  so  high  that  I  seemed  to  be  lifted  up 
among  the  stars  that  sparkled  and  twinkled  like 
heavy  golden  drops  around  and  above  me.  The 
breeze,  stead dy  blowing,  stirred  me  to  vague  im- 
aginings of  distant  beauty  and  sweetness,  for  it 
was  laden  with  perfume  from  the  wooded  hills  a 
long  way  off.  For  the  Convent  stood  between  the 
sea  and  an  amphitheatre  of  hills,  whose  slopes 
were  covered  with  villages,  villas,  and  gardens, 
and  the  charming  suburbs  of  a  great  city,  while 


102        TEE  BURNING    OF   TEE   CONVENT. 

their  summits  were  still  crowned  with  rich  groves 
of  trees.  But  just  outside  the  Convent  grounds, 
and  around  the  base  of  Mount  Benedict,  lay,  like 
an  encircling  ring,  that  barren,  clayey  district, 
given  up  to  brickmaking,  from  out  of  which  the 
city  of  Boston  was  springing.  This  region  of  clay- 
pit  appeared  so  ugly,  dull,  and  desolate,  when  we 
looked  down  upon  it  from  our  bowery  playground 
on  Mount  Benedict  during  recreation  hours,  that 
I  never  willingly  suffered  my  eyes  to  dwell  upon 
it,  overlooking  it  quickly  to  let  them  rest  instead 
upon  the  green  and  purple  distance.  But  on  this 
night  such  a  change  appeared  as  made  a  fairy 
land  of  that  distant  plain.  All  the  brick-kilns 
had  been  set  burning,  and  as  night  concealed  the 
ugly  brickyards  and  clay-fields  in  which  they  were 
erected,  nothing  was  visible  but  the  magic  circle 
of  fire  that  seemed  to  be  drawn  around  the  Con- 
vent. 

No  sound  was  to  be  heard  but  the  crackling 
of  the  kiln-fires,  the  far-away  bark  of  a  dog,  the 
monotonous  droning  of  the  late  grasshoppers,  and 
the  vague  hum  and  stir  of  insects  and  leaves  on  a 


THE  FIRST   YELL   OF  TEE  MOB.  103 

summer  night.  These,  then,  were  the  "  Voices  of 
the  Night,"  whose  whispers  delighted  my  startled 
imagination. 

The  breeze  was  so  cooling,  so  refreshing,  the 
distant  sounds  so  soothing,  that  insensibly  I  grew 
sleepy  and  my  head  drooped  lower  and  lower,  till 
my  cheek  touched  my  folded  arms.  I  made  an 
effort  to  waken  myself  and  to  hold  up  my  heavy 
head,  and  opened  my  eyes  to  their  fall  width,  for 
which  I  was  rewarded  by  seeing  a  bright  falling 
star  curve  down  to  the  horizon. 

For  one  instant  I  watched  it ;  the  next  was  the 
first  moment  in  my  life  when  I  realized  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word  appalled.  I  heard  —  what  shall 
I  call  it  1  —  a  shout,  a  cry,  a  howl,  a  yell  1  It  was 
the  sound  of  a  mob,  a  voice  of  the  night,  indeed, 
that  made  it  hideous.  Child  as  I  wTas,  I  knew  at 
once  the  meaning  of  the  sound,  —  it  came  from 
more  than  a  mile  away,  for,  as  we  heard  after- 
wards, the  mob  gave  one  roar  as  it  crossed  Charles- 
town  bridge,  and  then  observed  profound  silence 
till  it  reached  the  Convent  grounds.  My  heart 
beat  thick  and  fast,  my  hands  clasped  themselves 


104        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

together,  and  there  was  a  rushing  and  ringing  in 
my  ears,  as  if  the  mob  was  surging  around  me 
already.  But  in  a  few  moments  I  recovered  my- 
self, and  drew  back  into  the  dormitory  from  the 
window.  The  girls  still  slept  profoundly,  and  not 
a  sound  was  audible  about  the  building ;  that  dis- 
tant cry,  so  significant  to  me,  was  not  loud  enough 
to  awaken  any  sleeper. 

Once  more  I  ventured  to  put  my  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  waited  for  what  would  ccme 
next,  in  a  trance  of  suspense,  hardly  daring  to 
breathe.  Again  the  watch-dog  barked,  at  the  far- 
away farm-house,  the  grasshoppers  droned,  the 
fires  in  the  brickyards  crackled,  but  how  changed 
was  the  night  to  my  excited  imagination  !  Save 
for  those  faint  noises,  solemn  silence  again  reigned, 
but  I  knew  it  was  to  be  broken,  horribly  broken, 
and  I  shivered  all  over  in  the  anticipation.  I 
looked  up  at  the  stars,  vaguely  fancying  that  the 
worlds  above  would  in  some  way  be  changing,  in 
sympathy  with  the  world  below,  and  half  sur- 
prised to  see  them  still  in  their  places,  throb- 
bing with  the  same  measured  beat. 


WAS  IT  A   DREAM?  105 

Though  I  leaned,  waiting,  against  the  window, 
still  as  a  little  statue,  my  brain  was  whirling  with 
thought.  Yes,  the  mob  was  really  coming,  —  Mary 
and  I  were  right.  I,  for  one,  was  dressed,  and 
could  in  a  moment  slip  on  my  frock,  if  necessary, 
but  what  would  happen  1  At  least  I  should  have 
to  go  home,  —  the  mob  would  do  something  to 
make  that  necessary.  Very  likely  there  would  be 
an  end  to  the  school,  at  least  for  a  time.  Delight- 
ful thought !  Courage  came  back  to  me  at  the 
bare  idea.  Welcome  the  mob  if  it  could  bring 
that  about !  "  Destruction  of  the  Convent,"  — 
yes,  the  girls  had  repeated  that  phrase  many 
times,  —  when  1  Yesterday  1  To-day  1  Why,  it 
seemed  an  age  since  I  heard  them  talking  about 
it,  and  how  still  it  was,  how  silent !  The  dog  had 
done  barking,  —  he  must  have  gone  to  sleep,  and 
no  wonder,  for  I  had  been  waiting  an  eternity. 
Did  I  really,  after  all,  hear  that  cry  1  Perhaps  I 
dreamed  it ;  that  would  be  natural  enough  when 
my  head  was  full  of  mobs,  and  the  girls  had  talked 
of  nothing  else  —  to-day]  yesterday1?  which  was 
it  1  Ah  !  —  A  horrible  yell  suddenly  rent  the  air 
5* 


106        THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

within  a  few  yards  of  the  window  at  which  I  was 
standing,  and  a  host  of  dark  figures  rushed  into 
view,  turning  the  corner  of  the  Bishop's  house, 
rolling  over  the  ground,  as  it  seemed  in  the  dim 
starlight,  like  a  black  cloud.     I  flew  across  the 

room  to  Elizabeth  W 's  bed,  shaking  her  and 

crying  out,  "Wake  up,  wake  up,  the  mob  has 
really  come  ! "  She  started  up  screaming ;  in- 
deed, though  the  rioters  had  gone  round  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  and  were  no  longer  visible 
from  our  windows,  which  looked  another  way,  the 
hoarse  outcry  they  made  would  have  roused  the 
Seven  Sleepers. 

All  the  girls  in  the  dormitory  suddenly  wakened, 
screamed  in  concert  with  Elizabeth,  and  many  of 
them  sprang  out  of  bed  in  affright.  I  could  just 
discern  their  figures  moving  helplessly  about  in 
the  darkness.  Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and 
Sister  Mary  Austin  appeared  ;  by  the  light  of  a 
lantern  swinging  from  the  hall  ceiling  opposite 
the  door  I  could  see  that  she  was  shaking  all 
over,  but  she  tried  to  control  the  trembling  of 
her  voice,  as  she  called  out,  "  Girls,  don't  be  fright- 


0,    THE  MOB!    THE  MOB!  107 

ened  1  There  can't  be  any  danger,  but  you  had 
better  dress  yourselves."  The  younger  girls  ran 
up  to  her,  and  clung  to  her  screaming,  "  0,  the 
mob,  the  mob,—  we  shall  all  be  killed  !  0,  what 
shall  we  do,  what  will  become  of  us  1 "  The  older 
ones  wept  and  wailed  and  wrung  their  hands,  and 
those  who  were  intimate  friends  threw  their  arms 
about  each  other,  and  vowed  to  keep  together 
whatever  happened.  Sister  Mary  Austin,  herself 
weeping  hysterically,  kept  imploring  the  girls  to 
dress  themselves,  whenever  she  could  command 
her  voice,  and  the  poor  things  essayed  to  do  so, 
but  they  were  so  agitated,  so  bewildered,  that 
few  of  them  were  able  to  put  on  all  their  clothes, 
or  to  fasten  properly  such  as  they  did  contrive 
to  get  into.  It  was  not  for  want  of  time,  for  we 
had  hours  yet  to  wait  before  the  will  of  the  mob 
declared  itself;  perhaps  the  want  of  light  had 
something  to  do  with  the  strange  helplessness  of 
the  scholars,  —  of  course  no  lamp  wras  allowed  in 
any  room  with  windows,  lest  the  mob  should  be 
attracted  by  it,  —  and  the  dim  glimmer  of  the 
hall  lantern  only  puzzled  the  poor  children  whose 


108        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

eyes  were  blinded  with  tears  and  terror.  As  for 
me,  I  managed  to  take  off  my  nightgown  and  put 
on  my  frock,  and  then  I  sat  quietly  down  on  my 
trunk,  feeling  a  sort  of  contempt  for  the  insane 
terror  of  all  the  people  about  me,  kept  at  its  cli- 
max by  the  furious  outcries  of  the  rioters.  In- 
deed, I  should  give  myself  credit  for  feeling  the 
high  courage  of  a  heroine,  if  1  had  not  to  confess 
that  my  common-sense  whispered  to  me,  from  the 
first,  that  the  girls  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
hands  of  the  mob,  who  probably  considered  them 
as  objects  of  pity.  It  was  the  Superior  whom 
they  specially  hated,  and  her  Nuns  and  her  Con- 
vent, and  on  these  was  to  be  spent  the  wrath  and 
rage  born  of  religious  bigotry.  This  thought  made 
me  calm  and  fearless,  though  it  was  rather  an  in- 
stinct than  a  thought,  for  of  course  it  did  not  pre- 
sent itself  definitely  to  my  mind.  So  I  sat  on  my 
trunk  and  listened  to  the  cries  of  the  rioters,  and 
the  responsive  wailing  of  the  girls,  oddly  mingled 
with  fretful  complainings,  like  children  as  they 
were,  —  "0  dear,  I  can't  find  the  bottom  of  my 
petticoat !  "     "  0  mercy,  this  shoe  is  n't  mine,  I 


THE  FIRST  SHOT  FIRED.  109 

can't  make  it  go  on  at  heel ! "  "0,  my  frock,  the 
sleeve  is  wrong  side  out,  or  something ;  it  won't 
go  on!"  "Where  is  my  other  stocking?  It's 
away  under  your  bed,  Jane,  I  never  can  get  it ! " 
"  What  shall  I  ever  do  1  My  flannel  petticoat  has 
got  wret  all  over  in  my  washbowl ! " 

And  now  we  heard  two  gunshots  fired  in  rapid 
succession  outside  the  Convent,  and  simultaneously 
loud  screams  issued  from  every  dormitory  where 
the  scholars  were  collected.  Some  one  rushed 
into  our  dormitory,  crying  out,  "  They  have  shot 
the  Superior;  she  went  to  the  top  of  the  high 
steps  to  speak  with  them,  and  they  would  n't  lis- 
ten, and  they  shot  her."  Poor  Sister  Mary  Aus- 
tin sank  back  on  her  chair  in  strong  hysterics  at 
this  word,  and  a  scene  of  great  confusion  ensued ; 
some  of  the  older  girls  tried  to  help  the  poor 
Sister  as  well  as  their  trembling  limbs  would  let 
them  ;  they  fanned  her  and  dashed  water  in  her 
face.  Another  messenger  entered  and  shook  Sis- 
ter Mary  Austin  by  the  shoulder.  "  Do  you  hear 
me  1 "  she  said,  —  it  was  some  tall  girl  from  a 
neighboring  dormitory,  whom  I  did  not  know  by 


110        THE  BURNING    OF    THE    CONVENT. 

name,  —  "  the  Superior  is  not  hurt ;  they  shot  at 
her,  but  they  did  not  hit  her.  0  Sister  !  do  stop 
crying  so  terribly,  do  hear  me,  —  the  Superior  is 
just  as  safe  as  you  are,  and  she'll  be  here  very 
soon,  and  you  can  see  her  for  yourself." 

Poor  Sister  Mary  Austin  sat  up,  gasping  for 
breath,  and  although  I  had  not  recovered  from 
the  terrible  impression  made  upon  me  by  those 
gunshots,  I  was  struck  with  the  ridiculous  appear- 
ance of  the  poor  lady,  with  her  veil  drenched, 
her  linen  headpiece  half  off,  disclosing  her  round 
shaven  poll.  Ludicrous  ideas  always  seize  most 
strongly  upon  me  in  the  midst  of  horror. 

Now  we  heard  a  quick,  firm  step  coming  through 
the  hall,  attended  by  a  patter  of  little  feet ;  aud 
in  a  moment  the  Superior  herself  was  among  us, 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  Juniors,  trembling  little 
things  who  had  forgotten  their  awe  of  her  aud 
clung  to  her  desperately.  Many  of  us  ran  to 
meet  her  at  the  door,  and  I  among  the  number, 
eager  to  know  what  had  really  befallen  her.  Sis- 
ter Mary  Austin  clutched  her  dress  with  nervous 
eagerness,  and  the  Superior  looked  down  upon  her 


THE  SUPERIOR  DEMANDED.  Ill 

with  her  usual  grand  air,  though  she  was  evidently 
excited  to  the  highest  pitch.  It  was  difficult  to 
catch  what  she  said  through  the  chorus  of  fear 
and  lamentation  which  the  children  about  her 
kept  up,  but  her  eyes  flashed,  as  I  could  see  by 
the  rays  from  the  lantern  which  happened  to  fall 
upon  her  as  she  stood  near  the  door.  It  seems 
that  the  mob  had  never  ceased  to  call  upon  her 
name,  from  the  moment  they  reached  the  front  of 
the  building,  ordering  her,  with  oaths  and  savage 
outcries,  to  come  forth,  and  bring  with  her  the 
miserable  victims  whom  she  kept  imprisoned  in 
her  dungeons.  The  Superior  would  have  gone 
out  and  confronted  the  rioters  immediately  had 
she  not  been  restrained  by  the  Nuns,  who  clung 
to  her  with  prayers  and  tears,  and  entreated  her 
not  to  venture  into  unnecessary  clanger.  For  a 
long  time  they  held  her  back,  but  she  had  the 
courage  of  a  man,  and  the  taunts  and  jeers  of  the 
mob  stung  her  to  recklessness,  and  she  at  last 
tore  herself  from  the  arms  of  the  Sisters,  and 
rushed  out  upon  the  landing  of  the  high  flight  of 
steps  that  gave  access  to  the  main  door  of  the 


112        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

building.  Though  she  had  the  courage  of  a  man, 
she  was  as  ignorant  of  the  world  as  a  child,  and 
utterly  wanting  in  tact.  She  had  been  used  to 
command  all  her  life,  and  she  looked  upon  the 
mob  with  immeasurable  contempt,  —  as  canaille, 
as  creatures  that  could  be  cowed  by  threats.  I 
can  imagine  how  she  appeared  as  she  stood  on  the 
top  of  the  steps  high  above  them,  her  tall  erect 
figure  dimly  outlined  in  the  starlight,  her  black 
robes  fluttering  back  and  blending  with  the  dark 
background  which  the  open  door  made  behind 
her.  The  mob  saluted  her  with  a  storm  of  objur- 
gation, which  she  bore  without  flinching,  inter- 
rupting them  at  last  in  her  clear,  loud  voice,  with 
some  word  that  intimated  her  desire  to  speak. 
Curiosity  as  to  what  she  would  say  caused  a  sud- 
den silence  to  fall  on  the  rioters,  and  it  is  possi- 
ble that  if  she  had  known  how  to  address  them 
she  might  have  prevailed  with  them  and  per- 
suaded them  to  disperse.  For  they  seemed  at 
first  by  no  means  determined  to  commit  violence, 
in  spite  of  their  savage  threats  to  that  effect.  It 
can  hardly  be  believed  possible,  but  such  was  the 


THE  SUPERIOR  ADDRESSES    THE  MOB.   113 

fact,  that  the  Superior  addressed  that  listening 
crowd  in  language  as  violent  as  their  own,  deliv- 
ered with  the  utmost  arrogance  and  imperiousness 
of  manner.  I  never  knew  what  her  words  really 
were,  with  the  exception  of  one  threat,  which  I 
myself  heard  her  boast  of  having  made ;  and  if 
she  uttered  it  to  the  mob  with  half  the  angry 
vehemence  that  she  used  in  repeating  it  after- 
wards, I  do  not  wonder  that  she  excited  violent 
indignation.  "Disperse  immediately,"  she  said  to 
the  rioters ;  "  for  if  you  don't,  the  Bishop  has 
twenty  thousand  Irishmen  at  his  command  in 
Boston,  and  they  will  whip  you  all  into  the  sea ! " 
Think  of  the  effect  of  such  a  speech  as  that  on  a 
body  of  American  truckmen  and  mechanics !  It 
was  immediately  after  she  had  launched  this 
threat  at  the  rioters  that,  breaking  their  silence 
with  fierce  yells,  they  fired  at  the  Superior  twice, 
and  the  affrighted  Nuns,  hovering  in  the  shadow 
of  the  door  behind  her,  pulled  her  back  by  force, 
and  barred  the  door  in  the  face  of  the  mob. 

Even  then  it  did  not  proceed  to  extremities,  — 
we  had  yet  a  long  time  to  wait !     All  the  dor- 

H 


114        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

mitories  were  at  the  back  of  the  building,  looking 
upon  the  garden,  which,  as  is  usual  in  convents, 
was  entirely  shut  in  by  high  fences,  and  the  same 
strong  picket-fences,  built  out  on  each  side  of  the 
main  facade,  cut  off  all  communication  between 
the  grounds  at  the  front  and  those  at  the  back  of 
the  Convent.  It  was  from  the  end  window  of  one 
of  the  Senior  dormitories,  at  right  angles  with  the 
front  avenue,  that  I  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
rioters  passing  through  it. 

Profound  silence  and  darkness  by  the  Superior's 
orders  reigned  in  the  lower  story  of  the  building, 
and  in  the  front  up-stairs  rooms ;  but  the  girls 
moved  freely  through  the  back  dormitories,  as 
these  were  farther  removed  from  the  sight  and 
sound  of  the  mob,  unless,  indeed,  it  should  break 
down  the  separating  fences,  or  force  a  passage  into 
the  house.  Tired  of  sitting  on  my  trunk,  waiting 
for  I  knew  not  what,  I  too  wandered  about  in  the 
dormitories,  always  seeing  a  succession  of  painful 
sights.  In  one  the  poor  Novice,  her  pale  face  laid 
back  into  her  white  veil,  was  stretched  on  a  bed 
in  a  dead  faint,  waited  upon  by  some  of  the  girls, 


THE  GIRLS  IN  DISTRESS.  115 

who,  however,  hardly  knew  what  to  do  for  her. 

In  another  Rosamond  M lay  on  the  floor  in 

a  fit,  her  weak  nerves  being  quite  unable  to  bear 
the  terror  of  the  night.  Several  of  the  children 
had  hysterics  more  or  less  severe,  and  the  sound 
of  their  laughing,  crying,  and  groaning  was  dis- 
mal indeed.  I  don't  remember  encountering  indi- 
vidual girls  in  my  wanderings,  —  probably  in  my 
state  of  exaltation  I  met  them,  and  looked  at 
them  without  recognizing  them.  One  only  I  re- 
member. The  front  rooms  opposite  the  dormito- 
ries were  closed  by  the  Superior's  order,  to  shut 
out  as  much  as  possible  the  noise  made  by  the 
rioters,  but  as  I  happened  to  notice  one  of  these 
doors  ajar,  while  I  was  lingering  in  the  hall,  I 
ventured  to  push  it  open.  There,  alone,  sitting 
on  the  sill  of  an  open  window,  her  face  and  figure 
visible  in  the  light  thrown  up  from  some  lanterns 

carried  by  the  men  below,  sat  Susanne   P ! 

She  looked  up  calmly  as  I  entered,  but  said  noth- 
ing ;  and  made  way  for  me  to  come  and  sit  beside 
her.  Seeing  her  so  composed,  I  went  up  to  her, 
whispering,  "  0  Susanne,  how  dare  you  ! "  for  it 


116        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

was  reported  among  the  girls  that  stones  had  been 
thrown  at  the  few  among  them  who  had  been 
reckless  enough  to  appear  near  a  front  window. 
"  I  have  been  here  a  long  time,"  she  said  quietly, 
in  her  pretty  broken  English;  "no  one  has  noticed 
me,  —  come  and  look  !  " 

I  ventured  to  put  my  head  over  the  window-sill, 
and  I  saw  below  me  a  crowd  of  men  and  a  few 
lanterns,  moving  together  confusedly,  and  I  heard 
a  jargon  of  voices,  though  I  could  not  distinguish 
much  that  was  said.  Some  were  in  eager  consul- 
tation, apparently ;  there  was  much  talk  inter- 
rupted with  oaths ;  savage  tones  struck  my  ear ; 
foul  language  was  uttered  that  I  could  not  under- 
stand, and  the  Superior's  name  often  mentioned, 
never  without  an  oath  and  some  insulting  appella- 
tion. One  sentence  only  I  clearly  remember ;  for 
it  was  spoken  right  beneath  us,  and  so  distinctly 
uttered  that  I  think  it  was  said  to  frighten  us, 
by  some  one  who  saw  us  at  the  window.  "  Sad 
enough  for  the  poor  girls,"  said  the  voice,  "but 
there  is  no  help  for  it,  —  we  must  blow  up  this 
cursed  building  with  gunpowder." 


THE  CONVENT  TO  BE  BLOWN   UP.       117 

I  drew  my  head  in  quickly  j  perhaps  I  should 
have  been  frightened  had  I  not  looked  at  Su- 
sanne,  and  taken  courage  from  her  contemptuous 
smile.  Some  one  else  must  have  overheard  this 
speech,  or  one  like  it,  from  another  window,  for  on 
leaving  Susanne  alone  at  her  post  of  observation, 
I  found  the  poor  girls  suffering  from  a  new  access 
of  terror,  caused  by  a  report  that  we  were  all 
going  to  be  blown  up.     A  few  years  after  I  was 

told  that  Susanne  P was  the  sister  of  Louis 

Perrault,  who,  with  his  father,  were  prominent 
leaders  of  the  Canadian  rebellion,  and  who  took 
rank  as  heroes  in  the  minds  of  Canadian  sympa- 
thizers. Certainly  Susanne,  the  daughter  of  the 
house,  was  a  born  heroine  ! 

The  mob  had  now  been  before  the  Convent  for 
an  hour  or  two;  it  seemed  a  long,  long  time, 
though  we  had  no  way  of  measuring  it.  With  the 
exception  of  certain  gusts  of  terror  which  swept 
through  the  children  when  some  new,  dreadful 
threat  of  the  rioters,  uttered  more  distinctly  than 
usual,  was  reported  among  them,  the  excitement 
that  completely  overwhelmed  them  at  first  had 


118        THE  BURXIXG    OF   THE    COX  VEX  T. 

subsided,  and  the  poor  weary  girls  had  fallen  into 
a  state  of  passive  endurance.  Many  of  them 
seemed  stupefied  as  they  sat  about  on  their  trunks 
or  on  the  floor,  leaning  against  the  foot  of  a  bed- 
stead, for  there  was  not  a  single  chair  in  the  dor- 
mitories. Some  were  dozing  as  they  lay  stretched 
across  the  foot  of  a  bed ;  some  had  taken  pillows, 
and  had  thrown  themselves  down  to  rest  in  the 
alleys  between  the  cots.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
general  feeling  that  it  was  not  the  thing  at  such 
a  time  to  lie  down  properly  on  the  bed  in  the 
usual  manner.  And  all  were  in  different  stages 
of  dress  and  undress,  hardly  one  fitly  attired,  for 
the  Nlins  were  entirely  absorbed  in  their  own  ter- 
rors, and  not  one  paid  the  least  attention  to  the 
condition  of  the  pupils,  or  even  at  any  time  sug- 
gested to  them  to  try  and  save  such  valuable 
articles  as  could  be  easily  carried  from  the  wreck 
and  ruin  that  was  to  be  apprehended. 

Suddenly  the  calm  iuto  which  we  had  fallen 
was  broken  by  a  joyful  cry  :  "They  are  going  off! 
The  mob  is  really  going  off !  They  have  left  the 
Convent,  and  they  are  all  moving  in  a  body  towards 


THE  M OB  SEEMS   TO    WITHDRAW.        119 

Charlestown  !  "  Even  the  most  timid  of  the  girls 
hastened  to  look  out  of  the  front  windows,  anxious 
to  see  for  themselves  if  this  wonderful,  delightful 
news  could  be  true.  All  was  pleasant  flutter,  and 
a  joyful  excitement  succe'eded  to  the  late  melan- 
choly state  of  suspense,  for  the  mob  was  indeed 
moving  off,  and  had  already  left  the  front  of  the 
building.  We  could  see  the  black  cloud  of  figures 
rolling  along  the  terrace-walks  leading  to  the  main 
avenue  that  wound  its  way  down  the  hill  to 
Charlestown.    I  rushed  to  the  room  where  Susanne 

P ■  still  sat  motionless  on  the  window-sill,  and 

followed  the  cloud  with  my  eyes  as  it  slowly  re- 
treated. 

I  heard  the  laughing  and  chattering  of  the 
girls,  so  suddenly  relieved  from  apprehension,  in 
the  neighboring  rooms,  but  I  could  not  say  one 
word.  I  confess  to  a  horrible  feeling  of  disappoint- 
ment. I  had  so  hoped  that  the  mob  might  do 
something  that  would  lead  to  my  going  home  and 
to  the  breaking  up  of  the  school,  though  very 
vague  in  my  mind  wTas  the  idea  of  what  that 
something   might,  could,  or   should  be.     Susanne 


120        THE  BURNING   OF   THE  CONVENT. 

was  equally  silent,  and  paid  no  attention  to  me 
whatever.  At  last  I  conld  contain  myself  no 
longer,  and  I  said,  mournfully,  "  So  they  are 
really  going  away,  after  all ! "  And  I  heaved  a 
deep  sigh.  "You  are  mistaken,"  said  Susanne, 
quietly.  "  Tu  te  trompes,"  she  muttered,  forget- 
ting her  English  in  the  earnestness  with  which 
she  watched  the  proceedings  of  the  mob.  "  Look 
there  !  "  she  exclaimed  aloud,  and  I  looked  with 
all  my  eyes. 

At  the  end  of  the  terrace-walks,  and  before  de- 
scending the  hill,  the  black  cloud  wavered  and 
stopped  ;  then  it  rolled  back  and  forth  in  various 
uncertain  directions,  then  it  settled,  and,  after 
what  seemed  a  long  time,  the  light  from  a  couple 
of  bonfires  began  to  illumine  the  scene.  These 
were  fed  with  boards  and  pickets  from  the  fences 
at  the  bottom  of  the  walks ;  we  could  see  men 
pulling  and  tearing  them  away,  and  throwing 
them  upon  the  bonfires,  which  then  emitted  great 
showers  of  sparks.  I  thought  the  light  was  al- 
ready growing  very  brilliant,  when  suddenly  the 
flames  from  some  burning  tar-barrels  blazed  out 


A  FIRE-ENGINE  APPEARS.  121 

fiercely,  streaming  high  up  in  the  air,  putting  out 
the  light  of  the  fainter  bonfires  and  making  the 
place  as  light  as  day.  The  black  cloud  resolved 
itself  entirely  into  the  figures  of  men,  which 
moved  irregularly  about  the  fires. 

Soon  we  heard  a  faint  tinkling  sound,  and  we 
saw  a  speck  of  dim  light  like  that  of  a  lantern 
hung  high  on  a  frail  support,  come  moving  and 
creeping  up  the  hill  from  the  main  road  to 
Charlestown.  "  Susanne,  what  is  if?"  I  whis- 
pered. "It  is  the  fire-engine  from  Charlestown," 
she  answered.  "  They  have  seen  the  blaze  ;  they 
thought  it  must  be  from  the  Convent,  that  it  was 
on  fire,  and  they  have  come  to  put  it  out." 
"  Then  they  will  certainly  help  us,  those  firemen," 
I  whispered  again,  for  I  was  too  much  excited  to 
speak  loud.  "  They  certainly  will  drive  the  mob 
off,"  I  went  on,  hardly  knowing  whether  I  wished 
they  would  or  not !  There  was  a  pause  wrhen  the 
engine  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  apparently  a 
parley  between  the  rioters  and  the  firemen.  "  Now 
look  again,"  said  Susanne,  in  her  quiet  tone ;  the 
lantern,  swinging  high  above  the  engine,  turned 
6 


122        THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

round  slowly,  drew  off  from  the  rioters,  began  to 
descend  the  hill.  Down,  down,  down  it  went, 
swaying  from  side  to  side,  while  the  engine-bell 
tinkled,  tinkled  ever  more  faintly,  and  slowly  the 
machine  disappeared  from  our  straining  eyes,  and 
was  lost  from  sight  ere  it  turned  sharp  round  into 
the  road. 

The  little  opposition  made  to  their  doings  by 
the  firemen  seemed  to  give  the  rioters  sudden 
courage,  which,  as  we  afterwards  heard,  was  stim- 
ulated also  by  liquor,  —  a  barrel  of  spirit,  proba- 
bly New  England  rum,  having  been  broached  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  bonfires,  —  and  an  entire 
change  took  place  in  their  conduct,  hitherto  so 
vacillating.  They  leaped  and  danced  about  the 
blazing  tar-barrels,  yelling,  singing,  throwing  their 
arms  about  in  wild  gestures,  so  that  their  figures, 
seen  against  the  brilliant  light  of  the  flames, 
looked  like  a  confusion  of  black  whirling  wheels, 
whose  spokes  were  legs  and  arms.  Suddenly  some 
of  the  number  ran  to  the  bonfires,  snatched  from 
them  burning  firebrands,  which  the}*  whirled  aloft, 
and,  loudly  calling   on    the    rest  to   follow,  they 


BACK   COME   THE  RIOTERS.  123 

placed  themselves  at  the  head  of  the  dreadful 
returning  tide  of  rioters,  which  now  surged  back 
towards  the  Convent  with  a  hoarse  roar  like  a 
great  wave  rising  to  ingulf  it. 

Now,  indeed,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  pur- 
pose of  the  rioters,  their  time  for  action  had 
come ;  and  the  poor  children,  still  watching  at 
the  front  windows,  and  just  now  so  happy  in  the 
relief  of  their  fears,  saw  it  and  knew  it  as  well 
as  I  did.  A  great  cry  arose,  and  then  an  ago- 
nized and  confused  screaming  from  the  poor  crea- 
tures. I  remember  no  more  of  Susanne  than  if 
she  had  disappeared  by  magic  from  before  my 
eyes ;  I  rushed  back  to  the  hall,  where  I  encoun- 
tered a  crowd  of  distracted  children  running  in 
every  direction.     Suddenly  I  heard  voices  calling 

out,  "  Maria  F ,  where  is  Maria  F 1     The 

Superior  wants  Maria  F "  ;  and  I    caught  a 

glimpse  of  some  of  the  Nuns  urging  that  lovely 
young  creature  into  a  front  room.  I  did  not  fol- 
low her,  but  I  know  that  she  was  there  seized 
upon  by  the  Superior,  and  put  forward  as  a  for- 
lorn hope  by   that   poor   lady   and   her   terrified 


124        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

group  of  Nuns,  at  their  wits'  ends  for  means  to 
meet  the  coming  destruction.  I  heard  a  window 
in  that  room  thrown  open ;  and,  running  back  to 
the  post  of  observation  I  had  just  quitted,  I  was 
in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Maria's  head  and  body 
thrust  out  of  the  window  so  far  that  it  was  evident 
she  was  grasped  from  behind  by  some  unseen  hand, 
and  to  hear  her  youthful  treble  pipe  forth,  "  Go 
away,  go  away  !  my  father's  a  judge,  and  he  will 
put  you  all  in  prison  ! "  This  address  to  the  mob, 
of  course,  produced  not  the  least  effect,  probably  it 
was  not  even  heard,  but  poor  Maria  had  done  her 
best ;  she  was  hastily  jerked  back  by  the  hands 
that  held  her,  and  the  window  shut  down.  The 
Superior  really  thought  that  her  idea  of  threaten- 
ing the  mob  with  the  terrors  of  the  law,  by  the 
mouth  of  a  judge's  daughter,  was  an  inspiration 
of  genius  sure  to  be  successful,  though  such  be- 
nighted ignorance  of  life  and  human  nature  is 
almost  impossible  to  believe  ! 

This  solemn  farce  being  concluded,  and  Maria's 
head  disappearing,  the  ever-increasing  yells  of  the 
mob,  now  swarming  once  more  under  the  walls  of 


/  RECEIVE  A    CHARGE.  125 

the  building,  drove  me  also  from  the  window,  and 
I  ran  back  again  into  the  hall,  where  I  found  the 
Superior  trying  to  rally  the  children,  who  were 
wildly  running  about  here  and  there.  Her  strong- 
will  prevailed  over  many,  who  came  clustering 
about  her.  With  her  quick  eye  she  singled  out 
those  of  the  older  girls  who  seemed  to  have  the 
most  presence  of  mind.  To  each  of  them  she 
intrusted  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  children  at 
her  knees,  with  a  few  solemn  words  of  charge, 
clasping  their  hands  together  with  her  own  firm 
palm.  Suddenly  her  eye  fell  on  me,  and  she 
almost  smiled.  "Why,  you  are  as  brave  as  a 
little  lion ! "  she  said,  and,  drawing  me  up  to  her 
with  one  hand,  she  brought  forward  with  the  other 
a  small,  sickly,  thin  child,  whose  pink  frock  was 
dropping  off  her  skeleton  shoulders.  The  poor 
little  creature  was  perfectly  dazed  with  terror 
and  bewilderment,  and  the  Superior  looked  at 
her  keenly,  as  she  put  her  helpless  hand  into 
mine.  "  Her  mind  is  gone  to-night  entirely,"  said 
she,  "and  I  give  her  in  charge  to  you,  because 
you   are  not  frightened.      Promise  me  solemnly 


126        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

that  you  won't  let  go  her  hand,  till  you  find  your- 
self in  some  safe  place."  Her  voice  and  manner 
made  a  great  impression  on  me ;  I  looked  up  into 
her  face  and  gave  the  required  promise,  at  the 
same  time  squeezing  the  poor  little  girl's  hand 
so  hard  that  she  gave  a  little  moan. 

I  shall  never  cease  to  wonder  at  the  personal 
coolness  and  courage  of  the  Superior  in  this  fear- 
ful crisis ;  as  remarkable  as  the  childish  ignorance 
and  want  of  tact  she  showed  in  the  management 
of  others.  For  the  mob,  brutalized  with  drink, 
rending  the  air  with  hoarse  outcries,  were  already 
endeavoring  to  force  the  heavy  outer  doors  with 
violent  blows,  which  resounded  through  the  build- 
ing, and  shook  it  to  its  foundation.  And  the  Su- 
perior knew  that  if  these  rioters  should  come  upon 
her,  inflamed  with  liquor,  rage,  and  hate  as  they 
were  then,  they  would  kill  her.  Yet  her  eye 
never  quailed,  and  neither  hand  nor  voice  trem- 
bled. 

I  don't  know  how  the  time  went.  I  suppose  it 
was  only  for  a  minute  or  two  that  we  stood  par- 
alyzed in  the  hall,  listening  to  the  violent  attack 


THE  MOB  ENTERS.  127 

being  made  on  the  doors  below.  Suddenly  a  black 
body  of  Nuns  came  flying  through  the  whole  length 
of  the  passage  from  the  Superior's  room,  and  threw 
themselves  upon  her,  pushing  her  forward,  and 
crying,  "0  Madame,  0  ma  Mere,  they  have  en- 
tered your  room,  they  are  climbing  in  through 
the  window,  it  is  full  of  men  already,  —  they  will 
be  here  in  a  moment,  —  0,  fly,  fly !  —  0,  where 
shall  we  go  % "  And  they  wept  and  groaned  fran- 
tically. "  Silence  ! "  cried  the  Superior,  in  her 
commanding  voice.  "  Mes  Sceurs,  follow  me  !  and 
you  girls,"  she  added,  hastily  turning  to  us,  "  if 
any  of  you  are  willing  to  run  the  risk  of  coming 
with  me,  do  you  keep  close  beside  me."  She  then 
ran  forward  through  the  hall,  followed  by  the 
Nuns,  and  by  many  of  the  girls,  the  big  ones 
dragging  their  little  charges  after  them,  till  she 
reached  a  certain  stairway.  Here  she  paused  to 
look  back  at  her  following,  and  just  then  a  crash 
was  heard  below,  so  sudden  and  deafening,  that 
the  violent  screams  of  women  and  children  above 
and  the  triumphant  hurrahs  of  the  mob  beneath 
were   hardly   audible   above   it.      No  wonder  the 


128        THE  BURN IX G    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

sound  was  overwhelming !  "Well-directed  volleys 
of  stones  were  fired  simultaneously  and  in  quick 
repetition  at  all  the  lower  front  windows  of  the 
building,  and  the  crashing  of  glass  was  as  loud  as 
a  volley  of  musketry.  Some  of  the  girls  who  were 
following  the  Superior,  not  knowing  what  they 
did  in  their  terror,  ran  past  her  with  a  wild 
shriek,  farther  down  the  long  hall,  and  vanished 
from  sight,  nor  did  she  attempt  to  stop  them. 
She  herself  flew  down  the  stairs,  and  I  saw  that 
she  held  a  large  key  in  her  hand.  Just  at  the 
bottom  of  these  stairs  a  massive  door  opened  from 
the  lower  back  hall  into  a  small  paved  court,  sunk 
between  two  long  projecting  wings  of  the  main 
building ;  and  from  this  court  there  was  access  to 
the  large  back  garden  of  the  Convent.  All  the 
Nuns,  and  about  twenty  of  the  girls,  prepared  to 
follow  the  Superior,  but  when  they  saw  her  put 
the  large  key  which  she  carried  into  the  lock  of 
the  court  door,  with  a  natural  hesitation  they  lin- 
gered at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  not  knowing  who 
or  what  might  rush  in  upon  them  as  soon  as  that 
door  should  be  opened.     As  for  me,  I  was  wrought 


A   SORTIE  EFFECTED.  129 

up  to  a  pitch  of  heroism:  indeed,  I  don't  think 
that  I  screamed  once  during  that  night,  even  in 
sympathy  with  the  screaming  multitude  around 
me,  and,  seeing  the  Superior  all  alone  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  essaying  to  unlock  the  door,  I  broke 
through  the  trembling  crowd  on  the  landing  above 
and  hurried  down  to  join  her,  as  fast  as  I  could 
drag  my  passive  charge  after  me.  "  Brave  girl !  " 
she  said,  as  I  pressed  close  to  her  side;  nor  can 
I  describe  the  feelings  which  agitated  me  during 
the  moment  of  suspense  when  she  was  turning 
the  heavy  lock  of  the  door.  The  stillness  with- 
out made  that  moment  still  more  exciting ;  I  im- 
agined a  band  of  crouching  rioters  in  ambush  just 
outside  the  door,  and  prepared  myself  for  the 
sudden  spring  of  a  drunken  mob,  ready  to  beat 
down  the  Superior  and  the  Nuns  with  clubs,  or 
shoot  at  them  with  guns.  I  think  the  Superior 
shared  my  apprehensions,  for  she  drew  a  long 
shuddering  breath  as  she  at  length  mastered  the 
lock,  and  flung  the  door  wide  open.  Ah  !  shall 
I  ever  forget  the  ghostly  stillness  of  that  courts 
yard  1  It  struck  me  with  awe,  as  something 
6*  i 


130        THE  BURNING    OF    THE    CONVENT. 

supernatural,  in  contrast  with  the  horrible  din 
of  destruction  at  the  front  of  the  building.  Shall 
I  ever  forget  how  calmly  the  moonlight  slept  upon 
its  fair  pavement,  save  when  the  small  shadows 
of  leaves,  stirred  by  the  night-wind,  moved  lightly 
over  it,  like  fairy  feet  dancing]  The  court  was 
planted  with  white-rose  bushes,  yet  in  bearing, 
and  shall  I  ever  forget  how  the  full-blown  roses 
were  set  among  the  dusky  branches,  like  so  many 
ivory  cups,  nor  how  they  seemed  to  hold  a  sweeter 
perfume  than  ever  rose-cups  held  before  ]  For,  as 
I  stood  at  the  Superior's  side,  close  enough  to  feel 
the  beating  of  her  heart  while  she  was  struggling 
with  the  unyielding  lock,  I  had  so  wrought  my- 
self up  to  expect,  and  to  meet,  nameless  horrors 
in  that  courtyard,  that  the  reaction  set  my  im- 
agination free  to  enjoy  and  idealize  the  peaceful 
reality. 

Well  for  the  Superior  it  was.  that  her  room 
contained  many  valuable  articles,  besides  a  large 
sum  of  money  just  paid  in  by  the  pupils;  for,  if 
the  men  who  first  climbed  into  it  through  her 
windows  had  not  stopped  to  steal  her  possessions, 


REFUGE  AT   THE   TOMB.  131 

she  could  never  have  had  time  to  escape  from  the 
upper  hall  as  she  did. 

As  soon  as  the  anxious  little  crowd  waiting  at 
the  top  of  the  stairs  saw  the  Superior  disappearing 
in  safety  through  the  court  door,  they  all  rushed 
tumultuously  after  her,  and  we  followed  her  quickly 
to  the  very  bottom  of  the  long  garden,  where  our 
further  progress  was  stopped  by  a  board  fence, 
some  eight  or  ten  feet  high.  As  it  had  been  built 
strong  enough  to  keep  out  all  curious  intruders 
and  garden  thieves,  of  course  it  effectually  shut  us 
in.  The  Superior  led  the  way  to  the  very  door 
of  the  solid  brick  tomb,  which  was  as  large  as  a 
small  house,  and  made  us  all  sit  down  on  the 
grass-border  of  the  broad  walk  leading  past  it. 
The  iron  door  of  the  tomb  wTas  ajar,  perhaps  for 
the  purpose  of  ventilation,  and  I  think  the  Supe- 
rior meant  to  take  refuge  within  it,  should  she  be 
followed  by  the  rioters. 

And  now  profound  silence  was  again  enjoined 
upon  us  by  the  Superior,  who  sat  enthroned 
among  us, —  for  she  always  held  herself  enthroned 
like  a  queen,  however  lowly  her  position,  —  and 


132        TfTE  BURNING    OF   TIIE   CONVENT. 

the  Nuns  crouched  about  her  feet.  The  moon, 
which  had  but  lately  risen,  and  which  began  to  be 
obscured  by  light  clouds,  occasionally  revealed  the 
figures  of  the  girls,  who,  motionless  in  various 
hopeless  attitudes,  had  withdrawn  themselves  as 
much  as  possible  into  the  shade  of  the  bushes 
that  lined  the  garden  paths.  Some  of  them  slept 
the  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion,  in  spite  of  the  hor- 
rible noise.  For  the  mob,  after  forcing  their  way 
into  the  Convent,  quickly  overran .  it  from  garret 
to  cellar,  and  the  work  of  its  destruction  pro- 
ceeded rapidly.  With  fascinated  eyes  I  watched 
its  progress,  for  I  sat  where  I  could  see  the  build- 
ing from  top  to  bottom.  The  rioters  began  their 
work  by  ransacking  the  cellars  and  basements, 
probably  looking  for  those  dungeons  and  cells  of 
which  they  had  heard,  and  which  they  chose  to 
believe  were  used  by  the  Superior  as  places  of 
punishment  for  such  Nuns  among  the  Community 
as  fell  under  her  displeasure,  and  their  voices, 
underground,  sounded  like  the  hoarse  growling  of 
a  pent-up  sea.  Up  stairs,  at  the  same  time,  a  few 
wandering  lights  crossed  the  windows  hurriedly, 


THE  BUILDING  SACKED.  133 

and  moved  from  room  to  room  quickly,  carried 
probably  by  certain  practical  spirits,  who  were 
taking  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  search  for 
such  valuables  as  they  could  pocket  easily.  Soon 
lights  and  figures  mounted  from  story  to  story, 
and  a  moving  panorama  of  rioters  crossed  and 
recrossed  the  windows  in  procession.  The  noise 
of  breaking  and  tearing  down  heavy  furniture,  the 
smashing  and  crashing  of  glass,  pictures,  and 
china,  began  to  rise  above  the  din  and  dissonance 
of  voices;  occasionally  some  window  would  sud- 
denly be  cleared  of  figures,  and  with  a  rush  of 
rioters  from  within,  certain  large  pieces  of  furni- 
ture would  fill  the  gap  for  a  moment,  and  then 
thunder  down  upon  the  pavement  below,  followed 
by  the  hurrahs  and  jeering  laughter  of  the  crowd. 
Sundry  harps  and  guitars  were  destroyed  in  this 
way,  and  the  sharp  snap  and  melancholy  after-wail 
of  their  broken  strings,  as  they  fell,  put  into  my 
mind  the  sudden  thought,  "  0,  what  if  they  should 
throw  out  one  of  the  Sisters  !  " 

And  still  we  sat  in  profound  silence,  the  girls 
effacing  themsolves  as  much  as  possible  among  the 


134        THE  BURNING    OF  THE   CONVENT. 

shrubs,  the  Nuns  huddled  together,  hiding  their 
faces  in  their  veils,  about  the  knees  of  the  Supe- 
rior, who,  erect  and  motionless,  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  doomed  Convent,  where  she  had  so 
long  held  arbitrary  rule.  Whenever  the  night- 
wind  rustled  suddenly  in  the  branches  of  the 
trees,  or  sent  the  Mien  leaves  scurrying  along  the 
garden-walks,  we  fancied  for  a  moment  that  the 
sounds  were  made  by  stealthy  footsteps  approach- 
ing, and  our  hearts  beat  fast.  I  heard  the  low 
sigh  of  relief  breathed  by  such  of  my  companions 
as  were  awake,  when  the  cause  of  the  sudden 
sounds  made  themselves  evident.  For  when  the 
faint  moonlight  broke  through  the  clouds,  I  saw 
some  of  the  children  still  asleep,  with  heads  nod- 
ding on  their  breasts.  The  poor  little  child  put 
under  my  care  by  the  Superior,  and  who  could 
not  have  been  more  than  six  years  old,  lay  across 
my  lap,  either  asleep  or  stupefied,  and  I  still  held 
her  hand  grasped  mechanically  in  mine,  in  fulfil- 
ment of  my  promise.  In  answer  to  a  whispered 
inquiry,  she  told  me  that  her  name  was  Louisa, 
that  she  came  from  New  Orleans.     Occasionally 


POOR   CLARIBEL!  135 

during  this  dreary  time  of  waiting  the  poor  little 
thing  would  stir  her  head  uneasily  in  my  lap,  and 
mutter  something,  as  if  in  a  dream,  — waking  or 
sleeping,  I  knew  not  which,  —  about  "Mother"  or 
"  Aunt  Fan,"  or  a  certain  wax-doll  whose  remem- 
brance  seemed  to  haunt  her  brain.  And  I  had 
plenty  of  time  to  think  of  my  poor  Claribel,  and 
wonder  at  my  folly  in  not  making  an  attempt  to 
save  her.  I  don't  know  to  this  day  why  I  did 
not,  for  there  was  nothing  to  hinder  me  from 
groping  my  way  to  the  school-room  at  any  time 
during  the  hours  when  the  mob  were  keeping  us 
in  suspense  till  they  should  have  made  up  their 
minds  what  to  do  with  us. 

And  now  the  windows  of  the  Convent  began  to 
be  illuminated,  one  after  the  other,  and  commen- 
cing in  the  second  story,  with  a  more  brilliant 
light.  No  candles,  lamps,  or  torches,  such  as  the 
rioters  had  been  carrying  through  the  rooms,  could 
account  for  it.  For  they  were  firing  the  Convent. 
I  could  see  men  going  from  room  to  room,  heaping 
all  sorts  of  combustible  materials,  bedding,  cur- 
tains, clothing,  into  the  middle  of  the  floors,  and 


136        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

even  flinging  school-books  upon  the  piles,  which 
came  down  with  fluttering  leaves,  like  big  birds 
swooping  upon  them.  After  an  ominous  pause  I 
saw  the  fire  burst  from  these  combustible  heaps, 
at  first  feebly,  and  then,  as  it  were,  stretching  its 
arms  higher  and  higher  toward  the  ceiling,  pal- 
pitating and  brightening  as  if  breathing  in  a  new 
life.  As  soon  as  the  rioters  had  made  sure  that 
each  fire  was  well  lighted,  they  rushed  from  the 
room  where  they  had  kindled  it  and  went  to  work 
elsewhere,  till  in  a  very  short  time  the  windows 
of  the  Convent  began  to  glow  like  openings  into 
a  world  of  flames.  Again  there  arose  the  sounds 
of  destruction ;  of  rending,  tearing,  and  falling  of 
heavy  weights,  and  the  shivering  and  crackling 
of  glass,  but  made  by  a  power  stronger  than  the 
hands  of  a  dozen  mobs.  These  were  the  most 
horrible  moments  of  all  that  horrible  night,  and 
the  noise  was  aggravated  by  the  increased  roaring 
of  the  fire,  which,  together  with  the  brilliancy  of 
its  light  and  the  pungent  smell  of  smoke,  threw 
the  poor  women  and  children  about  me  into  a 
stronger  agony  of  terror  than  ever ;  the  harder  to 


THE   GARDEN  FENCE  STOPS    US.  137 

bear  because  it  had  to  be  suppressed.  For  we  all 
felt  that  the  time  must  come  soon  when  we  should 
be  discovered.  The  rioters,  driven  from  the  build- 
ing by  the  fire,  would  assuredly  turn  to  fresh 
mischief;  probably  nothing*  had  prevented  the  Su- 
perior from  being  followed  long  before  but  the 
ignorance  of  the  mob  as  to  the  nature  of  con- 
vents. They  had  no  idea  the  poor  Sisters  were 
waiting  for  them  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  but 
of  course  supposed  they  could  walk  out  of  it  at 
pleasure,  and  probably  had  done  so.  But  if  the 
search  for  the  Superior  should  commence,  the 
rioters  knew  she  could  not  have  escaped  them  at 
the  front  of  the  Convent,  and  would  follow  her 
through  the  garden,  sure  that  she  must  have 
taken  that  wTay  to  a  place  of  refuge. 

And  the  very  last  of  the  rioters  seemed  about 
quitting  the  building;  a  few  lingered  yet  in  the 
music-room,  and  they  must  have  been  wild  with 
intoxication  or  excitement,  for  their  last  act,  bo- 
fore  leaving  the  room,  was  actually  to  hoist  up 
and  throw  from  the  window  a  piano,  which  fell 
with  a  crash  distinctly  audible   above  all   other 


138        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

sounds;  then,  with  one  final  yell,  the  ruffians 
disappeared  from  our  sight.  Every  moment  we 
were  growing  more  and  more  anxious  and  dis- 
tracted. What  should  we  do?  where  could  we 
go?  We  were  shut  up  in  that  garden  as  closely 
as  if  we  were  in  prison,  with  no  place  even  of 
temporary  refuge  from  the  rioters  but  the  tomb, 
and  the  poor  girls  held  the  tomb  in  as  much  hor- 
ror as  they  did  the  rioters.  Through  the  whole 
of  that  eventful  night  the  same  fears  and  appre- 
hensions were  shared  by  all,  and  though  very  few 
words  were  exchanged,  each  of  us  knew  sympa- 
thetically what  the  rest  were  feeling.  I  suppose 
I  was  the  only  child  among  them  all  who  was 
buoyed  up  under  the  terrors  of  the  night  by  the 
delightful  hope  of  deliverance  from  the  Convent 
and  a  return  to  liberty.  I  am  sure  the  rioters 
would  have  exulted  over  me  as  one  victim  released 
by  them  from  the  Superiors  rule,  had  they  known 
my  state  of  mind. 

I  was  beginning  to  feel  very  much  cramped  by 
long  sitting  on  the  grass.  I  had  raised  up  poor 
Louisa,  and  was  trying  to  prop  her  head  against 


FRIENDS   ON   THE   OTHER  SIDE.  139 

my  shoulder  while  I  wrapped  my  frock  about  her 
bare  neck  and  arms,  when  I  fancied  I  heard  sus- 
picious sounds,  as  of  people  walking  softly  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fence.  I  held  my  breath  to 
listen ;  there  could  be  no  mistake  this  time ;  no 
rustling  of  foliage  or  fluttering  of  leaves  ever  pro- 
duced such  sounds.  And  there  were  several  foot- 
steps audible  together,  as  if  a  number  of  men 
were  creeping  along  towards  us,  one  after  another. 
We  all  heard  them  plainly ;  for  a  moment  the  ter- 
rified children  sat  paralyzed  with  new  fear,  and 
then,  starting  up,  they  rushed  toward  the  Supe- 
rior, huddling  together  about  her,  and  trying  to 
repress  their  screams,  lest  they  should  be  over- 
heard. But  it  was  too  late ;  the  footsteps  stopped 
suddenly,  strong  hands  began  to  tear  down  the 
fence  close  behind  us,  and  the  deep  breathing  of 
men  intent  on  hard  work  was  plainly  audible.  It 
was  useless  for  us  to  think  of  escaping  them,  with 
the  burning  Convent  in  front  of  us;  useless  to 
think  of  hiding  in  the  garden,  which  would  soon 
be  illuminated  in  every  part  by  the  flames.  I 
looked  at  the  Superior  anxiously ;  brought  to  bay 


140        THE  BURNING    OF   TEE   CONVENT. 

at  last,  she  opened  her  mouth  to  call  out,  "  Who 
is  there]"  I  hastily  interrupted  her,  not  know- 
ing what  might  happen  if  her  voice  was  heard, 
and,  taking  the  word  from  her  lips,  —  with  a  des- 
perate effort  of  courage,  I  confess,  —  /  called  out, 
"Who  is  there]  what  do  you  want]"  A  horrible 
moment  of  suspense  followed,  and  then  a  sup- 
pressed voice  answered,  "  We  are  friends ;  don't 
be  afraid,  we  have  come  to  save  you."  The  Su- 
perior knew  the  voice,  and  exclaimed,  joyfully, 
"  It  is  Mr.  Cutter,  and  his  men  are  with  him.  0, 
God  be  thanked!"  she  added,  fervently.  This 
ejaculation  was  the  only  admission  of  fear  or  ap- 
prehension that  she  allowed  to  escape  her  lips 
that  night  in  my  hearing.  "  Hush,  hush  ! "  the 
suppressed  voice  warned  us.  "  You  will  be  over- 
heard. For  the  Lord's  sake,  keep  quiet;  them 
fellows  are  looking  for  the  Superior  already;  we 
were  afraid  we  should  be  too  late."  And  the  tear- 
ing and  ripping  of  boards  went  on  furiously.  So 
strongly  was  the  fence  built,  that  it  seemed  an 
intolerable  length  of  time  before  an  opening  could 
be  made  in  it  sufficiently  large  for  one  person  to 


OVER  AND    THROUGH  THE  FENCE.        141 

creep  through,  with  aid  from  the  outside,  the  men 
having  only  their  hands  to  work  with.  There  was 
such  a  rush  of  frightened  creatures  at  the  opening, 
each  anxious  to  escape  first,  and  pulling  and  push- 
ing those  who  impeded  her,  that  Mr.  Cutter  had 
to  exert  all  the  authority  that  could  be  compressed 
into  energetic  whispers  before  he  could  bring  about 
some  kind  of  order,  and  begin  to  pull  us  through, 
one  at  a  time.  For  my  part,  I  felt  myself  a  hero- 
ine ;  the  first  distinct  cry  of  the  mob  on  Charles- 
town  bridge,  which  I  heard  from  my  solitary  station 
at  the  dormitory  window,  had  transformed  me  into 
one,  though  I  confess  to  sundry  momentary  back- 
slidings  into  cowardice;  and  in  that  capacity  I 
withdrew  proudly  from  the  crowd,  with  my  passive 
little  charge,  and  waited  my  turn. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  confusion  before  the 
terrified  company  found  themselves  safe  on  the 
right  side  of  the  fence,  and  to  facilitate  their 
escape,  a  man  was  assisted  by  his  comrades  to 
climb  the  fence,  where  he  sat  astride,  pulling  up 
the  children,  one  after  another,  from  the  Convent 
garden,  and  dropping  them  down  into  strong  hands, 


142        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

which  waited  to  receive  them  on  the  other  side. 
This  process  took  less  time  than  would  have  been 
required  to  make  another  opening  in  the  fence; 
but  it  was  an  ignominious  mode  of  exit,  and 
showed  to  great  advantage  the  ,  odd  disarray  of 
the  children.  I  could  see,  for  instance,  that  one 
had  on  only  a  petticoat  outside  her  nightgown, 
another  a  nightcap  under  her  bonnet,  —  for  chil- 
dren wore  nightcaps  in  those  days.  A  third  dis- 
played one  leg  bare,  with  a  garterless  stocking  on 
the  other;  a  fourth  had  a  shawl  pinned  over  a 
flannel  skirt ;  a  stringless  shoe  and  a  slipper  down 
at  heel  clambered  over  the  fence  together  on  one 
pair  of  feet. 

Suddenly  I  saw  my  old  acquaintance  Mary,  put- 
ting up  her  arms  imploringly  to  the  man  whose 
leg  dangled  down  above  her,  as  if  begging  him  to 
help  her  up  next.  I  had  not  before  observed  that 
she  was  with  us,  and  I  was  anxious  to  know 
whether  she  had  gone  to  bed  dressed,  according  to 
the  solemn  agreement  made  between  us  to  that 
effect  on  the  afternoon  previous.  Yes,  I  could  see 
quite  plainly,  by  the  light  from  the  burning  Con- 


A  PROMISE  NOT  FULFILLED.  143 

vent,  that  she  had  kept  her  word  ■  up  she  went  in 
the  man's  strong  grasp,  in  her  pink  frock,  appar- 
ently all  right.  But  she  was  awkward,  and  the 
man  who  was  pulling  her  by  both  wrists  was  in  a 
hurry ;  he  gave  a  sudden  jerk,  the  pink  frock 
burst  open,  and  some  folds  of  Mary's  nightgown 
fluttered  forth;  her  cape-bonnet  fell  back  from 
her  shoulders,  and  more  nightgown  was  revealed, 
and  as  she  made  an  involuntary  flying  leap  over 
the  top  of  the  fence,  I  saw  reason  to  be  convinced 
that  her  nightgown  was  her  only  garment,  save 
the  treacherous  pink  frock. 

*'  There,  Mary's  goodness  has  been  too  much  for 
her,  after  all!"  I  thought.  She  was  afraid  of 
offending  Sister  Mary  Austin.  Well,  she  '11  never 
have  another  chanoe,  and  I  suppose  she  is  glad  she 
obeyed  rules  up  to  the  last  minute,  though  it  has 
cost  her  two  petticoats  and  a  pair  of  pantalets." 

Being  determined  to  fulfil  my  promise  to  keep 
fast  hold  of  Louisa's  hand  till  she  should  be  in  a 
place  of  safety,  I  refused  to  be  dragged  over  the 
fence  in  my  turn,  but  crept  quietly  through  the 
opening,  about  the  very  last  to  make  my  escape, 


144        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

though  I  must  confess  this  act  of  courage  cost 
me  a  great  effort.  And  yet,  though  in  haste  to 
follow  my  companions,  who  were  fast  disappear- 
ing from  my  sight,  as  they  made  their  way  down 
the  hill  towards  Mr.  Cutter's  house,  I  turned  and 
looked  back  on  the  Convent  through  the  narrow 
gap  in  the  fence,  —  like  a  picture  of  fire  set  in  a 
black  frame, — and  for  the  first  and  only  time 
that  night  I  shed  bitter  tears.  I  did  so  mourn 
over  the  fate  of  my  poor  Claribel,  perhaps  at  that 
very  moment  melting  in  the  flames.  I  declare 
I  don't  like  to  think  of  the  grief  I  suffered  on 
her  account,  as  I  sat,  dumb,  on  the  ground  that 
night  in  the  garden,  with  my  eyes  fixed  on  what 
I  thought  her  funeral-pyre;  nor  of  the  remorse 
which  tortured  me  in  thinking  how  easily  I  could 
have  saved  her. 

Poor  little  Louisa  looked  into  my  face  when  she 
saw  me  weeping,  and  I  fancied  her  countenance 
was  troubled  ;  and  she  made  an  unsuccessful  effort 
to  find  her  pocket,  with  the  purpose,  I  do  believe, 
of  offering  me  her  handkerchief  when  she  saw  me 
wiping  my  eyes  on  the  hem  of  my  frock. 


TEMPORARY  SHELTER.  145 

We  found  ourselves  in  a  potato-field,  which 
covered  the  slope  of  Mount  Benedict,  between  the 
Convent  and  Mr.  Cutter's  house,  which  fronted  the 
high-road  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.  Down  through 
the  ridges  we  stumbled,  as  fast  as  we  could, 
following  the  Superior  and  her  little  anxious  party 
into  the  very  house  where  poor  Sister  Mary  John 
had  taken  refuge  in  the  delirium  of  brain-fever. 
A  number  of  people  met  us  at  the  door,  and  with- 
out speaking,  they  led  the  way  at  once  up  stairs, 
ushering  us  into  a  couple  of  large  back  chambers, 
whose  windows  faced  the  Convent.  There  was  a 
high  feather-bed  in  the  room  which  I  entered, 
covered  with  a  patchwork  quilt,  and  I  immedir 
ately,  with  a  great  effort  of  strength,  lifted  up  my 
little  Louisa,  and  laid  her  upon  it,  that  she  might 
rest  for  a  few  minutes  at  least.  I  was  not  used 
to  feather-beds,  but  I  think  this  must  have  been  a 
very  fine  one,  for  I  recollect  well  how  the  child 
sunk  down  into  the  midst  of  the  feathers,  which 
rose  up  all  around  her  and  almost  hid  her  from 
my  sight,  in  the  bottom  of  a  little  nest,  while  I 
stood  on  tiptoe  to  peep  down  upon  her  like  a 
7  j 


146        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

small  mother-bird  over  a  big  fledgling.  The  older 
girls  generously  gave  up  the  bed  to  the  little  ones, 
-who  clambered  up  its  height,  and  flung  themselves 
down  upon  it,  in  a  promiscuous  confusion  of  heads 
and  legs, — like  a  handful  of  jackstraws  just 
dropped.  The  one  fixed  idea  in  my  mind  through 
the  night  was,  that  it  behooved  me  to  keep  fast 
hold  of  my  Louisa's  hand  under  all  circumstances ; 
and  to  effect  this,  as  she  lay  in  the  bed,  I  was 
obliged  to  stand  on  a  footstool  beside  her,  and 
lean  my  head  against  the  bedpost.  Then  my  eyes 
naturally  fixed  themselves  on  the  burning  Con- 
vent, full  in  view  from  the  windows,  —  a  magnifi- 
cent display  of  fireworks,  which  illuminated  the 
room,  the  house,  and  the  neighborhood  for  a  good 
distance. 

I  think  I  must  have  fallen  into  a  state  of  semi- 
somnambulism,  a  sort  of  half-awake,  half-asleep 
condition,  for  I  remember  gradually  losing  my 
identity,  and  becoming  in  an  odd  way  one  with 
the  flames,  from  which  I  felt  unable  to  turn  my 
eyes.  They  appeared  to  rise  and  fall  with  my 
breath,  to  pulsate  with  the  beating  of  my  heart, 


SISTER  MARY  JOHN.  147 

and  through  the  varied  noises  of  the  conflagration 
a  voice  seemed  to  be  addressing  me  in  an  under- 
tone. Yet  I  was  conscious  that  Sister  Mary  John 
had  dropped  into  an  arm-chair  by  my  side,  and 
was  sitting  there  absolutely  motionless,  her  long 
neck  drooping  forward,  and  holding  the  crucifix 
of  her  rosary  clasped  in  her  hands.  Other  people 
moved  about  the  room,  talking  in  low  murmurs ; 
their  figures  flitted  before  my  eyes,  but  I  recog- 
nized only  this  one  figure  of  Sister  Mary  John, 
still  as  a  statue.  I  even  lost  sight  of  Louisa's 
pale  little  face,  though  I  knew  I  was  always  clasp- 
ing her  hand.  Suddenly  I  started  up,  thoroughly 
roused ;  Sister  Mary  John  had  flung  up  her  head 
with  a  wild  cry,  and  before  I  could  draw  a  long 
breath  she  had  sprung  from  her  chair,  and  was 
running  round  and  round  the  room,  like  an  animal 
in  a  cage,  vehemently  talking  to  herself  in  a  tor- 
rent of  meaningless  words.  The  people  in  the 
room  shrank  away  from  her  for  a  moment,  but  it 
was  evident  that  she  was  perfectly  harmless.  De- 
lirium had  broken  out  again,  and  no  wonder.  Poor 
creature !  she    saw    no    one,   and  took  no    notice 


148        THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

when  she  was  spoken  to,  but  she  continued  to  run 
pitifully  about  the  room,  still  clasping  her  crucifix. 
And  nobody  paid  much  attention  to  her ;  a  sort 
of  apathy  had  fallen  upon  us,  and  we  had  got 
used  to  horrors.  I  now  think  I  must  have  lost 
myself  once  more  in  sleep  after  that,  for  I  remem- 
ber starting  up  again,  and  becoming  conscious  of 
a  strange  apparition.  The  tall  figure  of  Sister 
Mary  John  stood  between  me  and  the  window,  dis- 
guised in  a  large  bonnet  and  a  school-girl's  cloak 
that  hardly  reached  her  knees.  She  was  perfectly 
quiet  again,  but  she  trembled  all  over  ;  she  had 
taken  it  into  her  head  that  the  vengeance  of  the 
mob  was  to  fall  on  her  alone,  and  that  she  would 
be  instantly  murdered  unless  she  was  disguised  as 
a  school-girl.  She  therefore  insisted  on  wrapping 
herself  in  a  child's  cloak,  the  only  garment  of  the 
kind  possessed  by  our  scantily  clothed  party,  re- 
fusing to  accept  instead  one  that  was  offered  her 
by  Mrs.  Cutter,  and  which  was  quite  long  enough 
for  her. 

Mr.    Cutter   appeared    at    the    chamber   door. 
"Come,"  said  he,  hurriedly,  in  a  low  voice.     "Are 


THE  MOB  AT  OUR  DOOR.  149 

you  ready  %  Follow  me ;  for  you  can't  stay  here. 
The  mob  have  tracked  the  Superior,  and  they 
declare  she  is  in  this  house.  I  have  put  them  off 
as  long  as  I  can.  I  dare  n't  keep  you  any  longer. 
I  and  my  men  will  go  with  you  up  Winter  Hill, 
and  try  and  find  some  hiding-place  for  you. 
Come,  come,  no  delay."  This  was  the  substance 
of  what  he  said  to  us ;  and  we  were  hurried  off  by 
the  women  of  the  family,  who  were  waiting  down 
stairs  to  aid  our  escape.  In  fact,  we  were  too 
near  the  Convent ;  and  there  was  so  much  light 
from  the  flames  that  no  place  of  concealment 
remained  for  us  in  its  neighborhood. 

So  I  lifted  my  poor  little  Louisa  out  of  her 
nest,  and  we  followed  the  Superior  and  the  Sis- 
ters, who  had  most  of  them  been  hidden  in  an 
adjacent  room,  and  who  now  appeared  wrapped  in 
a  few  shawls  and  hoods,  which  did  not  disguise 
them  much.  The  poor  young  Novice  tottered 
down  stairs,  supported  by  two  of  the  Nuns,  her 
white  veil  twisted  about  her  head  something  in 
the  form  of  a  cap.  Just  as  I  was  crossing  the 
threshold  of  the  chamber,  I  stumbled  over  a  little 


150        THE  BURNING    OF   THE    CONVENT. 

brown  cape,  which  had  been  dropped  either  by 
some  child  who  had  gone  down  before  me  or  by 
some  one  in  the  house.  I  joyfully  picked  it  up, 
with  no  idea,  however,  of  inquiring  for  the  owner, 
and  fastened  it  round  little  Louisa's  neck. 

"VVe  left  the  Cutter  farm-house  as  quietly  as 
possible  by  the  back  door,  Sister  Mary  John  hur- 
rying on  first,  with  such  odd  long  strides  that  two 
of  the  older  girls,  of  whom  she  had  been  fond,  ran 
forward  to  join  her  aud  to  take  her  between  them, 
each  holding  an  arm.  But  she  was  so  afraid 
murderers  were  pursuing  her,  that  the  girls  had 
hard  work  to  soothe  and  quiet  her.  We  blun- 
dered along  through  a  back  yard  and  a  field  or 
two,  after  leaving  the  house,  and  finally  emerged 
upon  the  road  at  some  distance  from  it.  The 
men  who  were  with  us  hurried  us  continually,  but, 
fortunately  for  the  little  children,  the  Superior, 
who  was  stout  and  wholly  unaccustomed  to  walk- 
ing, soon  got  out  of  breath,  and  positively  declared 
her  determination  to  "take  it  slowly."  The  men 
argued  in  vain.  The  Superior  vowed  she  would 
walk  no  faster  if  the  mob  were  at  her  heels,  and 


ANOTHER  FLIGHT  NECESSARY.  151 

called  imperatively  on  Sister  Mary  John  to  slacken 
her  pace.  The  poor  lady,  accustomed  to  obey  the 
Superior  implicitly,  did  so  now  as  long  as  she 
could  remember  the  command,  and  then  hurried 
forward  again.  The  sick  young  Novice,  stimu- 
lated by  fear,  and  perhaps  refreshed  by  the  open 
air,  felt  herself  able  to  walk,  but  she  was  only  too 
happy  to  creep  on  slowly  between  two  strong 
Nuns;  and  we  poor  children  dragged  our  weary 
bodies  along  in  straggling  procession.  No  rioters 
appeared  anywhere  ;  we  were  already  a  good  dis- 
tance from  the  Convent,  and  the  Superior,  whose 
reckless  courage  never  failed  her,  even  at  the  mo- 
ment when  she  found  herself  face  to  nice  with  the 
mob,  began  to  laugh  and  joke  with  Mr.  Cutter 
and  the  Sisters  about  her,  sorely  to  the  distress 
of  our  escort,  who  seemed  to  be  far  more  alarmed 
for  her  than  she  was  for  herself.  At  that  time 
there  were  scarcely  any  houses  between  Mount 
Benedict  and  Winter  Hill;  the  few  scattered  dwell- 
ings being  occupied  by  bricklayers  and  laborers, 
and  by  no  means  suitable  as  places  of  refuge  for 
so  large  a  party,  even  had  it  been  prudent  to  stop 


152        THE  BURNING    OF  THE   CONVENT. 

so  near  the  precincts  of  the  Convent.  Mr.  Cutter 
made  us  walk  as  fast  as  was  possible ;  he  and  the 
men  with  him  were  leading  the  most  backward  of 
the  children  by  the  hand,  till  we  had  climbed  well 
up  Winter  Hill,  and  were  nearly  a  mile,  I  should 
say,  from  the  Convent.  Here  our  anxious  escort 
thought  it  best  to  pause  and  look  about  for  some 
place  where  it  would  be  safe  to  ask  for  shelter. 
We  were  passing  some  comfortable-looking  houses, 
probably  built  by  people  who  wished  to  commend 
the  fine  view  from  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  Mr. 
Cutter  happened  to  know  some  of  their  occupants. 
So,  calling  a  halt  before  a  substantial  dwelling,  he 
went  forward  himself  to  the  door,  and  began  to 
knock  and  ring,  at  first  softly,  and  afterwards 
louder  and  louder.  Then  he  stepped  back  into 
the  front  yard,  and  called  up  to  the  chamber 
window,  addressing  the  occupants  of  the  house  by 
name.  All  in  vain ;  dead  silence  prevailed ;  the 
house  was  shut  up  as  if  it  was  deserted,  every 
blind  closed,  and  not  a  sign  of  life  anywhere. 
"  Well,  if  that  ain't  peculiar !  "  I  remember  Mr. 
Cutter  said   to   himself,   as   he   slowly  withdrew 


HOSPITALITY  SLEEPS.  153 

down  the  gravel-walk  to  the  gate.  "  Let  's  try 
t'  other  man."  "  T'  other  man  "  lived  close  by, 
and  Mr.  Cutter  made  a  similar  attack  on  his  hos- 
pitality; but  no  answer  was  vouchsafed:  the  same 
silence,  the '  same  air  of  desertion,  reigned,  not 
only  at  Mr.  "T"  other  man's,"  but  about  the  neigh- 
borhood. It  was  like  a  "  deserted  village."  Mr. 
Cutter  seemed  provoked,  as  well  as  astonished, 
that  he.  could  make  no  one  hear,  and  this  sur- 
prised me.  I  thought  to  myself,  in  my  simplicity, 
"  Why,  if  these  people  have  been  able  to  sleep 
sound  all  night,  so  near  the  uproar  of  the  mob 
and  the  light  of  the  burning  Convent,  it  is  n't  at 
all  likely  they  could  wake  up  for  any  noise  Mr. 
Cutter  is  able  to  make  ! "  I  always  prided  myself 
on  being  reasonable. 

Meantime  we  grew  tired  of  waiting,  and  as  no 
one  seemed  willing  to  let  us  in,  we  found  a  tempo- 
rary resting-place  for^ourselves ;  we  thankfully  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  and  were  glad 
to  rest  our  heads  against  the  fence  behind  us. 
Mr.  Cutter  urged  us  to  rise,  telling  us  we  must 
'.'  keep  moving,"  till  we  found  some  person  willing 
7* 


154:        THE  BURNING    OF   THE  CONVENT. 

to  receive  us ;  he  could  only  hope  that  person 
would  be  found  living  within  a  reasonable  dis- 
tance. And  this  hope  was  unexpectedly  fulfilled, 
for  just  as  we  were  preparing  to  rise  from  our 
comfortable  seats,  we  heard  at  a  little  distance 
the  sound  of  a  window  opening,  and  a  voice  cried, 
"Who's  down  there?  What's  wanted?"  We 
all  turned  to  look  in  the  direction  of  the  voice, 
and  saw  a  ghostly  apparition  gleaming  white  from 
an  upper  window  of  a  house  at  a  little  distance, 
whose  hospitality  Mr.  Cutter  had  not  yet  sought. 
It  resolved  itself  into  the  nightcapped  head  of  an 
old  gentleman,  which  bobbed  up  and  down,  like 
Punch's,  over  the  window-sill,  when  Mr.  Cutter 
had  made  haste  to  place  himself  below  and  begin 
an  eager  parley  with  it.  Auxious  to  hear  what 
was  said,  I  followed  our  good  guide  into  the  small 
front  yard  of  the  house,  with  my  inseparable  little 
companion,  and  we  sat  down  together  under  a 
convenient  lilac-bush.  Mr.  Cutter  was  trying  to 
persuade  the  old  gentleman  to  admit  us,  and 
shelter  us  till  morning,  when  the  mob,  as  he  said, 
would  certainly  disperse  to  seek  its  own  safety, 


GOOD  JOSEPH  ADAMS.  155 

and  the  fugitives  from  the  Convent  be  sought  for 
by  their  friends  and  taken  away. 

The  old  gentleman  said  he  had  been  up  and 
about  his  house  all  night,  —  "  Strange,"  thought 
I,  "  that  he  should  be  so  much  more  wakeful  than 
his  neighbors !  "  —  very  much  alarmed  by  the 
mob,  of  whose  vicinity  he  was  aware,  and  very 
anxious  about  the  fate  of  the  women  and  children 
at  the  Convent.  He  declared  he  was  thankful  for 
the  Superior's  escape,  but  he  was  very  reluctant 
to  admit  her,  as  he  knew  her  to  be  the  special 
object  of  the  hatred  of  the  rioters,  though  he  made 
no  objection  to  receiving  any  number  of  children 
under  his  roof.  But  he  was  a  kind-hearted  old 
gentleman,  he  of  the  nightcap,  and  Mr.  Cutter  at 
last  persuaded  him  to  admit  us  all,  assuring  him 
that  wre  were  not  followed  by  any  of  the  mob,  who 
must  have  been  thrown  off  the  scent,  and  be  look- 
ing after  the  Superior  in  another  direction,  if 
indeed  they  thought  it  worth  while  to  search  for 
her  at  all. 

So  the  nightcap  disappeared  from  the  window 
to  reappear  at  the  front  door,  where  it  bobbed  a 


156        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

hospitable  welcome,  even  to  the  Superior,  who 
showed  herself  heartily  glad  to  be  once  more 
under  a  roof.  We  all  crowded  into  a  little  par- 
lor on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  front  door,  where 
an  old  lady  in  a  ruffled  cap  gleamed  on  the  Nuns 
curiously  through  a  pair  of  spectacles.  She  wished 
to  be  kind  to  them,  and  she  was  very  sorry  for 
them,  —  very  sorry,  too,  to  have  them  in  her 
house  at  that  time.  Yet  all  honor  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Joseph  Adams  of  Winter  Hill,  for  they  were 
indeed  good  Samaritans,  —  better  than  the  Samar- 
itan, for  his  kindness  cost  him  only  time  and 
money,  while  theirs  brought  them,  as  they  firmly 
believed,  into  danger,  all  the  more  formidable  to 
their  fears  because  they  did  not  know  in  what 
shape  it  would  come  or  when  to  expect  it. 

And  now,  while  Mr.  Adams  made  haste  to  bar 
and  lock  the  front  door,  and  Mrs.  Adams  to  hide 
the  only  candle  she  dared  keep  burning  in  the 
house  behind  the  fireboard  of  the  parlor,  the  Su- 
perior, in  her  usual  queenly  fashion,  seated  her- 
self right  in  the  centre  of  the  mahogany  horse-hair 
sofa.     It  was  the  most  elegant  piece  of  furniture 


THE  MOB  AGAIN.  157 

in  the  room,  and  no  one  dreamed,  though  seats 
were  scarce,  of  sharing  it  with  her.  Sister  Mary 
John  was  in  such  a  state  of  restless,  nervous  ex- 
citement that  good  Mrs.  Adams  took  her  up  stairs 
at  once,  and  tried  to  quiet  her  by  making  her  lie 
down  on  the  bed  ;  on  the  other  side  of  the  same 
bed  the  Nuns  laid  the  poor  worn-out  young  Nov- 
ice, —  I  wish  I  could  remember  her  name  !  —  two 
sufferers  from  the  effects  of  this  dreadful  night's 
work,  equally  exhausted,  but  showing  it  so  differ- 
ently. 

Meantime  I  had  seated  myself  on  the  carpet  at 
the  Superior's  feet,  with  Louisa  stretched  out  on 
the  hearth-rug,  and  her  head  on  my  knees. 

The  Superior  seemed  neither  tired  nor  anxious ; 
she  appeared  as  fresh  as  if  she  had  been  soundly 
sleeping  all  night  in  her  bed,  and  perfectly  indif- 
ferent in  regard  to  the  past,  the  present,  or  the 
future.  She  was  in  reckless  spirits,  and  her  lively 
speeches,  which  she  tried  to  utter  in  whispers, 
made  me  laugh.  She  must  have  recognized  me 
as  a  kindred  spirit  in  courage,  for  she  did  not  dis- 
dain to  amuse  me  with  her  banter.     Having  occa- 


158        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

sion  to  use  her  handkerchief,  she  felt  in  her  deep 
pocket  and  brought  forth  a  very  dirty  one,  and 
also  her  snuff-box,  which  she  was  delighted  to  find 
there.  Her  face  brightened  up.  "  Old  friend,  I 
did  n't  forget  you,  then  ! "  she  cried,  and  eagerly 
she  took  off  the  cover.  Alas,  it  was  empty !  Her 
countenance  fell ;  I  had  never  seen  it  wear  an 
expression  of  such  distress.  But  recovering  her- 
self, and  heaving  a  comical  sigh,  she  held  forth 
tragically,  one  in  each  hand,  her  soiled  handker- 
chief and  empty  snuff-box.  "  If  I  only  had  a 
clean  pocket-handkerchief  and  some  snuff,"  she 
said,   "  I  should  be  perfectly  happy  !  " 

Then  Mr.  Adams  entered  the  room  hurriedly, 
and  implored  the  Superior  to  be  silent;  he  had 
seen  from  the  upper  window  people  approaching 
from  the  direction  of  the  Convent;  and  even  as 
he  spoke  the  sound  of  rude  talking  and  snatches 
of  rough  singing  became  audible.  With  beating 
heart  I  heard  the  voices  and  steps  come  nearer 
and  nearer,  pause,  as  if  for  consultation,  and 
finally  stop  at  Mr.  Adams's  gate.  Heavy  feet 
trampled  the  gravel-walk  which  led  to  the  front 


THEY  CLAMOR  FOR   US.  159 

door,  and  the  bell  rang  loud  and  long,  while  the 
feet  shuffled  impatiently  on  the  doorsteps.  I  sup- 
pose there  was  not  a  human  being  in  the  house 
who  dared  to  draw  a  long  breath  at  that  moment. 
Mr.  Adams  showed  great  presence  of  mind ;  he 
let  the  impatient  hands  pull  the  door-bell  several 
times,  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  voices  which 
shouted  for  the  "  man  of  the  house  "  to  appear.  I 
wratched  him  as  he  stood  in  our  midst,  with  his 
finger  on  his  lip.  At  last,  when  the  clamor  out- 
side could  no  longer  be  ignored,  he  pulled  off  his 
coat,  drew  on  his  head  the  nightcap  in  which  we 
were  first  introduced  to  him,  appearing  all  in  white 
down  to  his  waist,  like  a  man  just  out  of  bed,  and 
crept  softly  up  stairs.  We  heard  his  light  foot- 
steps cross  the  room  overhead,  and  then  the  lei- 
surely opening  of  a  window  and  throwing  back 
of  a  blind.  I  suppose  the  old  gentleman  never 
knew  before  how  great  a  talent  he  had  for  acting. 
With  a  sleepy  air  of  astonishment  and  a  bewil- 
dered manner  of  speech,  just  like  a  man  suddenly 
roused  from  a  deep  sleep,  he  asked  what  was  the 
matter,  and  why  such  a  noise  was  made  about  his 


160       THE  BURNING   OF  THE  CONVENT. 

house.  A  confusion  of  voices  answered  him  ;  a 
great  deal  of  foul  language  was  used  that  I  did 
not  understand,  but  this  was  the  substance  of 
their  errand  :  They  were  searching  for  the  Supe- 
rior ;  she  had  been  seen  going  toward  Winter 
Hill ;  they  suspected  she  might  be  hiding  about 
the  neighborhood  somewhere,  perhaps  in  that  very 
house ;  or,  if  not,  very  likely  the  old  man  knew 
something  about  her.  If  so,  she  was  wanted,  and 
he  'd  better  tell  all  he  knew  if  he  had  any  notion 
of  what  was  good  for  himself.  Mr.  Adams  eagerly 
interrupted  them  by  asking  questions,  like  a  man 
perfectly  astonished  at  what  he  heard,  and  full 
of  unbounded  curiosity  to  have  it  explained.  The 
Superior  walking  up  Winter  Hill !  Why,  what 
could  they  mean  1  And  dear  me  !  there  was  a  fire 
down  Charlestown  way,  and  a  big  one,  too  !  When 
folks  shut  their  blinds  before  they  went  to  bed, 
they  could  never  see  anything,  nor  hear  anything 
either,  especially  if  folks  were  getting  old  and 
deaf.  So  that  was  the  Convent  burning  !  Good 
gracious !  how  did  it  happen  ?  Well,  I  want  to 
know  !     And  good  Mr.  Adams,  acting  perfect  igno- 


A  SKILFUL  PERFORMANCE.  161 

ranee  to  the  life  in  regard  to  the  night's  work,  got 
the  fellows  below  all  talking  together  about  it, 
explaining,  answering  questions,  boasting  among 
themselves,  and  contradicting  each  other,  till,  be- 
ing probably  half  intoxicated  and  dull  of  appre- 
hension, they  forgot  the  purpose  of  their  visit,  and 
finally  went  off  together,  disputing  and  wrangling 
over  the  events  of  the  night. 

All  this  has  taken  nearly  as  long  to  tell  as  it 
did  to  happen  ;  and  when,  the  rioters  having  gone, 
Mr.  Adams  came  down  stairs  to  us  once  more, 
after  carefully  closing  his  blinds  and  his  windows, 
and  stuffing  his  nightcap  into  a  handy  pocket,  in 
case  it  should  be  needed  again,  he  could  not  help 
modestly  admiring  his  own  skill  in  getting  rid  of 
them,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  anxiety  on  our 
behalf.  We  children  were  all  conveyed  softly  up 
stairs  to  a  back  chamber  opposite  the  one  occu- 
pied by  the  Nuns,  and  as  I  passed  its  open  door 
I  saw  the  poor  Novice,  white  as  the  pillow  under 
her  head,  lying  with  her  eyes  shut,  so  deathly  still 
that  when,  a  few  weeks  afterwards,  I  heard  she 
was  dead,  I  pictured  her  to  myself,  stretched  out 


1G2        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

in  her  coffin,  and  looking  exactly  as  I  remember 
her  at  this  moment,  when  I  saw  her  for  the  last 
time.  For  the  last  time  also  I  saw  poor  Sister 
Mary  John,  as  I  glanced  through  that  open  door. 
She  was  struggling  to  rise  from  her  pillow,  and 
was  gently  restrained  by  the  Sisters,  who  bent  over 
her.  She  had  heard  our  footsteps  as  we  came  up 
the  stairs,  and  possessed  with  the  idea  that  the 
murderers  who  had  been  so  long  pursuing  her  had 
at  last  found  her  out,  she  was  full  of  terror,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  the  expression  of  her  great  hag- 
gard eyes  as  she  fixed  them  on  the  door,  —  the 
last  look  I  ever  had  of  her.  The  Nuns  had  ven- 
tured to  keep  a  candle  burning  in  the  room  they 
occupied,  as  it  fortunately  was  furnished  with 
window-shutters,  which  they  closed  tightly  before 
they  dared  indulge  themselves  with  a  light.  By 
the  melancholy  glimmer  of  this  one  candle  these 
two  sad  faces,  side  by  side  on  one  pillow,  were 
daguerreotyped  on  my  memory. 

I  suppose  the  opposite  room,  in  which  we 
children  were  crowded  together,  was  good  Mrs. 
Adams's  "spare  room,"  for  though  we    were    al- 


WHEN   WILL  IT  END?  163 

lowed  no  candle,  I  perceived  through  the  darkness 
a  glimmering  of  pure  white  all  about  it,  from 
muslin  curtains  and  from  toilet-covers  and  "  ti- 
dies "  and  towels  and  a  Marseilles  counterpane. 
Mrs.  Adams  gently  requested  us  to  take  off  our 
shoes  before  stretching  ourselves  on  this  last,  and 
I,  finding  a  vacant  spot  near  the  footboard  of  the 
bedstead,  made  haste  to  take  it  for  poor  little 
Louisa's  use,  and  as  her  small  body  occupied  but  a 
tiny  place,  I  squeezed  myself  in,  close  to  her  side, 
partly  for  the  convenience  of  holding  her  hand, 
and  partly  because  I  began  to  feel  inexpressibly 
weary.  The  little  Southerner  was  as  passive  all 
night  in  my  hands  as  Claribel  herself  would  have 
been,  —  she  showed  no  more  will  or  life.  The 
poor  little  creature  was  no  heavier  than  a  good- 
sized  doll,  but  she  was  far  more  badly  made ;  her 
small  skeleton  lacked  altogether  the  plump  round- 
ness of  finish  that  sawdust  gives. 

"  Will  this  night  ever  come  to  an  end]"  I 
asked  myself,  as  I  lay  with  my  head  against  the 
footboard  of  the  bedstead,  trying  hard  to  keep  my 
quivering  eyelids  closed,  for  though  I  was  terribly 


164        THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

weary,  I  had  no  desire  to  sleep.  I  really  had  to 
make  an  effort  to  remember  how  daylight  and 
sunshine  looked.  So  many  events  and  so  many 
emotions  had  been  crowded  into  the  last  few 
hours  that  I  seemed  to  have  lived  a  year  since 
the  last  sunset.  "  And  no  sign  of  morning  yet !  " 
I  thought,  opening  my  eyes,  and  fixing  them  on 
the  window  to  see  if  there  was  any  glimmering 
of  dawn.  Nothing  but  the  everlasting  night  was 
to  be  seen  in  the  sky,  but  voices  again  struck  my 
ear,  and  the  sounds  of  footsteps  drawing  nearer 
and  nearer.  More  rioters,  I  thought,  starting  up 
from  the  bed.  And  indeed  the  bell  again  rang 
loudly,  and  thumps  and  kicks  were  bestowed  on 
the  front  door.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  perfect 
silence  preserved  in  the  house  I  heard  Mr.  Adams 
again  opening  the  window  and  blinds  of  his  cham- 
ber, and  caught  the  sound  of  his  voice,  addressing 
those  below  who  had  disturbed  him.  The  par- 
leying back  and  forth  between  door  and  window 
did  not  last  long  this  time  ;  of  course  the  visitors 
were  a  band  of  rioters,  who  had  not  given  up  the 
search   for  the  Superior,  and  I  don't  know  what 


FRIENDS  FIND    US.  1G5 

number  of  righteous  falsehoods  were  uttered  by 
Mr.  Adams  in  getting  rid  of  them.  They  went 
away,  however,  and  I  sank  baek  into  my  old  place 
by  the  footboard.  The  bed  was  covered  with 
children,  and  some  lay  about  the  floor  on  the  pil- 
lows they  had  taken  from  it,  and  I  don't  remem- 
ber that  they  took  any  notice  of  this  second  visit 
of  the  mob.  I  dare  say  most  of  them  were  asleep. 
And  after  the  intruders  were  gone  I  too  fell  asleep, 
probably  only  for  a  few  moments,  and  my  sleep 
must  have  been  light,  for  I  was  aroused  by  hear- 
ing more  voices  at  the  front  door,  more  knocking 
and  ringing,  followed  in  due  course  by  the  opening 
of  the  chamber  window,  and  Mr.  Adams's  tones  of 
expostulation.  But  I  was  very  much  surprised  to 
hear  him  suddenly  speak  in  a  natural,  joyful  voice, 
and  then,  leaving  the  window  open,  hurry  down 
stairs,  and  actually  unbolt  and  unlock  the  front 
door,  and  fling  it  wide  open !  I  heard  footsteps 
in  the  little  hall,  and  afterwards  in  the  parlor 
below,  but  I  could  distinguish  no  voices,  as  proba- 
bly the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  whispers. 
Who  could  these   strange  visitors  be,  that   were 


1G6        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

so    gladly    admitted    into    the    Superior's    pres- 
ence1? 

I  was  just  about  to  wake  Louisa  and  go  down 
stairs  to  see  for  myself  what  had  happened,  when 
Mrs.  Adams  opened  our  chamber  door  and  came 
in  gently.  "  I  am  awake  !  "  I  whispered,  jumping 
off  the  bed.  "  Who  are  those  people  down  stairs, 
Mrs.  Adamsl"  "I  am  so  sorry  to  wake  up  these 
tired  children,"  she  answered,  "  but  I  think  they 
ought  to  know  that  Mr.  B and  his  brother- 
in-law,"  —  she  mentioned  his  name,  but  I  have 
forgotten  it,  —  "  the  fathers  of  two  of  the  Convent 
scholars,  have  just  come  out  of  Boston  in  search 
of  their  children,  and  Mr.  Cutter  sent  them  here 
to  look  for  them."  I  suddenly  remembered  that 
Mr.  Cutter  and  his  men  had  disappeared  as  soon 
as  they  had  left  us  safely  housed  at  Mr.  Adams's, 
—  of  course  to  return  home  immediately  and  keep 
guard  over  their  own  property.  Mrs.  Adams  went 
on  to   say,    in   the  whispered  tones  we   were   all 

enjoined  to  use,  that  Mr.  B and  his  brother 

were  greatly  distressed  and  disappointed  in  not 
finding  their  children  at  her  house,  and  on  hearing 


ONE  MORE  START.  167 

from  the  Superior  that  they  had  never  joined  her 
party,  and  that  she  knew  nothing  about  them. 
As  they  had  already  made  all  the  inquiries  they 
dared  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Convent,  they 
now  proposed  to  return  to  Boston  at  once,  in 
hopes  of  finding  their  daughters  safe  at  home 
before  them.  And  they  offered  to  take  charge  of 
as  many  of  the  children  whom  Mr.  Adams  was 
so  kindly  sheltering  as  were  willing  to  accompany 
them.  Mrs.  Adams  roused  the  girls  from  their 
sleep  on  the  bed  and  on  the  floor,  and  made  them 

all  understand  this  offer  of  Mr.   B and  his 

brother,  patiently  explaining  it  over  and  over  to 
minds  stupefied  by  so  many  hours  of  excitement 
and  fatigue.  She  was  hospitable  and  thoughtful 
to  the  last,  assuring  the  girls  that  they  were  wel- 
come to  stay  at  her  house  just  as  long  as  they 
wished,  till  their  parents  and  friends  should  come 
for  them,  and  bidding  them  remember  that  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  get  to  Boston  that  night, 
when  no  carriages  could  be  procured,  and  the 
roads  might  be  infested  by  the  rioters.  I  am 
afraid  we  did   not   pay   much   attention  to   Mrs. 


1G8        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

Adams's  prudent  remarks ;  we  all  decided  to  go 

with  Mr.  B and  his  brother,  — believing,  with 

the  faith  of  little  girls,  that  we  should  be  safe  in 
the  company  of  grown-up  men,  —  all  except  a  few 
of  the  children  whose  homes  were  at  a  distance, 
and  who  had  no  friends  in  Boston. 

We  did  not  give  much  time  to  preparation  for 
our  journey;  there  was  very  little  to  be  done. 
Frocks  were  tied  up  and  twitched  into  position ; 
those  who  had  on  small  shawls  brought  the  two 
ends  round  from  back  to  front ;  and  those  who 
still  had  strings  in  their  shoes  laced  them  up. 
Those  who  had  bonnets  felt  themselves  to  be  in 
full  dress,  and  we  bareheaded  ones  involuntarily 
shrank  behind  them,  as  we  stole  down  the  stairs 
in  a  little  procession,  to  present  ourselves  to  the 
gentlemen  who  were  waiting  for  us. 

The  Superior,  still  sitting  erect  on  her  sofa,  as 
one  whom  it  was  impossible  to  subdue  or  fatigue, 
took  very  little  notice  of  us,  and  seemed  not  to 
care  whether  we  went  or  stayed.  She  was  talking 
volubly  to  the  gentlemen,  in  low  tones  of  course, 
but  with  many  emphatic  gestures,  expressing,  as 


NO   TIME  FOR   THANKS.  1G9 

was  natural  enough,  vehement  indignation  at  the 
treatment  to  which  she  had  been  subjected,  and 
the  losses  she  had  been  made  to  suffer.  The 
gentlemen,  who  would  have  sympathized  with  her 
keenly  at  any  other  time,  were  just  then  too  anx- 
ious about  their  daughters'  safety  to  think  of  an}T- 
thing  else,  and  they  left  her  abruptly,  as  soon  as 
the  forlorn  group  of  children  appeared  in  the  hall. 
Before  we  quitted  the  house,  careful  Mrs.  Adams 
took  the  precaution  of  stealing  out  upon  the  side- 
walk and  surveying  the  road  up  and  down,  so  as 
to  make  sure  that  the  coast  was  clear  for  our 
starting.  We  left  those  generous,  hospitable  peo- 
ple without  a  word  of  adieu,  or  one  expression  of 
gratitude  for  their  great  goodness  to  us  in  our 
misfortunes,  and  I  don't  know  whether  our  parents 
and  friends  ever  called  to  thank  them  afterwards 
on  our  behalf.  Nor  do  I  know  how  long  the  Su- 
perior and  her  Community  stayed  at  their  house ; 
I  never  saw  the  Superior  again,  but  in  my  memory 
she  remains  perpetually  sitting  bolt  upright  on 
the  hair-cloth  sofa,  her  dirty  handkerchief  in  one 
hand,  her  snuff-box  in  the  other. 


170        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

Mr.  B crept  in  behind  the  parlor  fireboard, 

just  as  we  were  leaving  the  house,  in  order  to 
consult  his  watch,  and  great  was  my  astonishment 
to  find  it  was  only  three  o'clock  when  our  journey 
to  Boston  began.     A  journey  indeed  it  proved  to 

be,   though  Mr.   B had    intended,    when    we 

started,  to  make  it  as  cas3r  as  possible  for  our 
weary  little  legs  by  taking  us  to  Charlestown 
Street  through  roads  as  direct  as  it  seemed  pru- 
dent to  follow,  and  then,  chartering  a  stage,  to 
convey  us  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  city.  Mr. 
Adams's  house  fronted  the  main  road  to  Boston  by 
the  way  of  Charlestown,  but  it  led  past  the  foot 
of  Mount  Benedict.     As  it  was  the  only  road  to 

the  city  with  which  Mr.  B was  acquainted,  he 

at  first  slowly  took  his  way  down  the  hill,  with 
the  intention  of  following  it,  if  possible;  but  when 
we  got  near  the  bottom  of  Winter  Hill,  the  light 
that  still  blazed  from  the  burning  Convent  illu- 
minated a  great  number  of  black  figures  still  sur- 
rounding the  building,  and  going  up  and  down 
Mount  Benedict,  crowding  the  turnpike  before  us, 
and  making  a  confused,  excited  murmur  of  talking 


A    WEARY   WANDERING.  171 

and  laughing.     Perhaps  the  crowd  had  been  drawn 

together  only  by  curiosity ;  but  Mr.  B dared 

not  venture  to  pass  them  with  his  odd-looking 
flock  of  girls,  who  would  be  instantly  recognized 
as  fugitives  from  the  Convent,  and  at  least  ex- 
posed to  brutal  jeers,  so  he  reluctantly  turned 
back,  and  after  ascending  Winter  Hill  again,  he 
plunged  to  the  left  into  a  lane  that  he  fancied 
would  lead  us  past  the  foot  of  Mount  Benedict 
and  into  the  street  beyond  by  a  detour. 

So  on  we  walked  and  walked  in  this  solitary 

lane,  Mr.  B and  his  brother  first  leading  the 

way,  and  the  children  straggling  behind  in  pro- 
found silence.  I  still  held  little  Louisa's  hand  in 
a  tight  grasp,  and  it  was  lucky  for  me  she  was 
so  light  and  small,  as  I  was  obliged  to  half  carry 

her  when  her  feeble  steps  failed.     Mr.  B was 

very  patient,  and  very  sure  we  should  come  out 
all  right  on  the  main  road  in  time,  but  evidently 
we  had  found  the  long  lane  that  had  no  turning, 
and  he  grew  first  anxious  and  then  discouraged, 
and  stopped  at  last  to  reconnoitre.  We  had  come 
to  a  little  bridge  which  crossed  a  small  stream, 


172        THE  BURNING   OF  THE   CONVENT. 

and,  hanging  over  this  bridge  with  folded  arms, 
apparently  regarding  the  water,  was  the  solitary 
figure  of  a  man,  as  motionless  as  the  fisherman 
on  my  mother's  Chinese  Willow  ware  plates,  who 
surveys  the  blue  water  from  the  blue  bridge  in  the 
same  attitude.  I  remember  asking  little  Louisa 
if  she  did  not  see  the  resemblance,  supposing  that 
every  family  from  Canada  to  New  Orleans  used 
Willow  pattern  plates  because  we  did.  The  poor 
little  thing  was  getting  fretful,  and  I  wanted  to 

amuse  her  while  Mr.  B was  talking  with  the 

solitary  on  the  bridge.  He  was  evidently  asking 
the  way,  and  the  man,  without  raising  his  head, 

muttered  some  reply  with  which  Mr.  B had 

to  be  satisfied.  When  he  rejoined  us,  I  heard 
him  tell  his  brother  that  the  right  way  to  get 
to  Charlestown  Main  Street  from  this  lane,  as  well 
as  he  could  make  out  from  the  answers  he  had 
received  from  the  man,  was  by  Lechmere  Point, 
and  that  Lechmere  Point  was  off  in  that  direction, 
vaguely  sweeping  the  dark  horizon  with  his  hand. 
So  we  started  on  our  journey  again  with  new 
courage.     I  never  heard  of  Lechmere  Point  before 


MORNJNG  DAWNS.  173 

that  moment.  I  have  never  been  there  since,  and 
I  am  sure  we  did  not  find  it  that  night,  though 

Mr.  B ■  continued  to  walk  on  and  on  towards 

the  horizon  witji  the  perseverance  of  the  Wan- 
dering Jew;  and  we  followed,  still  in  profound 
silence,  our  strength  kept  up  in  some  mysterious 

way.     We  all  felt  that  Mr.  B was  doing  his 

very  best  for  us,  and  that  if  he  had  not  under- 
taken to  guide  us  he  could  have  gone  straight 
home  by  the  main  road,  unnoticed  by  the  rioters, 
if  they  were  still  in  the  neighborhood,  so  we  wrould 
not  add  to  his  perplexities  by  our  complaints. 

We  were  walking  with  our  faces  to  the  east,  and 
we  could  see  morning  coming  from  a  long  way  off. 
When  the  dawn  began  to  glimmer  in  the  sky,  it 
seemed  to  me  like  the  quivering  of  a  closed  eye- 
lid just  before  it  is  lifted;  and  as  the  light  grew 
brighter  and  rose  higher  and  higher  above  the 
horizon,  this  eyelid  of  night  seemed  gradually  to 
unclose,  till  the  eye  of  day  looked  forth  uncur- 
tained. My  imagination  wras  stimulated  by  hours 
of  unwonted  excitement,  and  all  manner  of  strange 
fancies  darted  through  my  brain,  as   I   believe   I 


174        THE  BURNING   OF   THE  CONVENT. 

have  made  evident  enough  in  the  course  of  this 
little  history. 

I  think  my  thoughts  as  well  as  my  eyes  must 
have  been  in  the  sky,  for  I  recollect  realizing,  with 
a  great  start,  that  we  had  fairly  come  out  at  last 
on  Charlestown  Main  Street,  after  losing  our  way 
and  wandering  vaguely  about,  I  knew  not  where. 
I  am  sure  the  gentlemen  who  were  with  us  were 
astonished  too,  to  find  themselves  unexpectedly 
exactly  where  they  wanted  to  be  just  when  they 
were  feeling  sure  they  should  never  get  there ! 
And  it  was  time  the  journey  should  end;  some 
towrn-clock  struck  six  as  we  crossed  the  street  and 
hurried  into  the  great  paved  courtyard  of  the 
tavern  or  stage-house.  I  was  astonished  to  see 
the  sun  shining  brightly  on  houses  and  shops ;  I 
think  I  must  have  been  walking  mechanically, 
with  "my  heart  asleep,"  as  the  Irish  say,  for  I 
had  forgotten  that  day  was  come,  and  had  only 
been  conscious  of  the  relief  I  felt  in  the  departure 
of  that  dreadfully  long  night.  I  roused  my  torpid 
faculties,  and  helped  little  Louisa  to  climb  a  flight 
of  steep  back  stairs,  by  which  somebody  belonging 


THE  RETURNING  MOB.  175 

to  the  tavern  introduced  us  all  into  a  large  private 

room.     Mr.  B and  his  brother,  who  had  been 

anxious  and  uncertain  and  hesitating  in  manner 
and  speech  ever  since  they  left  Mr.  Adams's  house, 
now  brightened  up  and  grew  brisk  and  quick  and 
energetic.  They  were  very  thankful  that  we  had 
got  safely  to  the  stage-house  before  the  town  had 
waked  up,  and  while  the  streets  were  empty  and 
deserted ;  they  could  hardly  understand  our  good 
luck  in  finding  them  so,  or  why  it  was  that  at  six 
o'clock  of  a  summer  morning  the  shops  were  still 
shut  up  and  the  blinds  of  the  houses  closed.  The 
great  stage-house  itself  was  not  open  to  the  pub- 
lic, and  when  Mr.  B ,  who  had  often  stopped 

there,  led  us  through  the  courtyard  to  the  back 
entrance,  he  was  surprised  to  see  the  stables 
closed  and  the  yard  empty,  save  that  two  or  three 
hostlers  lounged  about,  keeping  well  out  of  sight 
of  passers-by.  We  were  told  that  behind  all  these 
bolts  and  shutters  and  blinds  the  people  who  lived 
on  Charlestown  Street  were  palpitating  with  alarm 
and  apprehension,  expecting  every  moment  the 
return  of  the  rioters,  of  whom  nothing  had  been 


176        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

seen  since  they  roused  the  town  by  marching 
through  it  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  of  the 
night  before.  If  we  could  only  keep  in  advance 
of  them,  and  leave  the  stage-house  before  they 
came  up,  how  lucky  we  should  be ! 

The  two  gentlemen  went  down  stairs  to  order 
the  stage  at  once,  which  was  to  take  us  the  rest 
of  the  way  to  Boston.  They  were  gone  a  long- 
time, we  thought,  as  we  sat  round  the  walls  of  the 
tavern  parlor,  on  two  dozen  wooden  chairs,  terri- 
bly impatient  to  be  off,  and  straining  our  ears  to 
catch  the  sound  of  stage- wheels,  or  the  tramp  of 
the  rioters,  wondering  which  we  should  hear  first ! 
We  had  plenty  of  time  to  examine  each  other 
curiously  by  the  light  of  day  ;  such  a  forlorn  little 
set  of  children  as  we  were,  —  half  of  us  with 
nothing  on  our  heads  but  our  tumbled  hair,  which 
fell  in  elf-locks  round  our  dusty  faces.  Down  the 
cheeks  of  the  smallest  girls  meandered  muddy 
streaks,  the  marks  of  tears  wiped  away  with  dirty 
fingers.  I  don't  believe  we  mustered  a  couple  of 
pocket-handkerchiefs  in  the  entire  party,  or  half 
a  dozen    shoestrings.     Some    of  us    dragged    our 


THE  HEADLESS  DOLL.  177 

shoes  after  us  slipshod,  and  both  shoes  and  stock- 
ings, and  the  bottoms  of  our  frocks,  were  covered 
with  mud  from  walking  through  dewy  grass  and 
dusty  roads.  Some  garterless  stockings  had  been 
encumbering  the  wearers  by  getting  under  their 
heels,  and  they  were  tying  them  up  with  ravel- 
lings  from  ragged  petticoats,  torn  either  on  the 
bushes  •  or  in  being  dragged  over  the  Convent 
fence.  A  very  few  of  the  children  had  made  an 
attempt  to  save  some  of  their  property.  One  girl 
had  her  "  lap-bag  "  with  her  patchwork  and  silver 
thimble ;  another,  who  was  dressed  more  thor- 
oughly than  any  of  the  party,  having  on  frock, 
bonnet,   and  shawl,   carried  her  nightgown  rolled 

up  under  the  shawl.     This  reminded  Mary  H 

to  take  off  her  nightcap,  which  she  still  wore 
under  her  bonnet,  and  put  it  in  her  pocket.  One 
little  girl  carried  a  small  doll,  whose  head  had 
rolled  from  its  shoulders  in  the  course  of  the 
night,  so  that  the  poor  little  mother  sat  weeping 
silently  in  a  corner ;  while  my  heart  ached  sym- 
pathetically in  thinking  of  Claribel.  Penelope 
E had   saved  a  basketful   of  stockings,   the 


178        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

legs  of  which  hung  limp  around  the  sides  of  the 
basket.  The}r  reminded  me  of  the  dangling  necks 
of  dead  ducks  which  I  had  seen  hanging  out  of 
the  market  -  basket  at  home.  Some  milk  was 
brought  up  for  us  to  drink.  I  made  my  little 
Louisa  swallow  some,  and  I  carried  a  tumblerful 
to  the  afflicted  mother  in  the  corner,  who  only 
shook  her  head  sadly  and  pushed  it  away.  I  had 
made  a  bed  of  two  chairs,  and  a  pillow  of  my  lap, 
for  Louisa,  and  I  felt  a  great  pity  for  the  poor 
little  thing  as  I  sat  looking  down  into  her  pale 
thin  face,  with  such  dark  rings  round  her  eyes 
that  the  pale  blue  orbs  looked  almost  white.  She 
did  not  close  them,  neither  did  she  appear  to  see 
with  them. 

How  glad  we  were  when  Mr.  B opened  the 

door  and  summoned  us  all  to  get  into  the  stage ; 
he  looked  heated  and  vexed,  for  he  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  persuading  the  stage-agent  to  let  us  have 
the  use  of  his  "  team,"  and  the  coachman  had 
been  unwilling  to  be  seen  on  the  box,  and  had 
also  needed  much  persuasion.  It  was  no  wonder 
they  hesitated,  for  the  streets  began  to  be  filled 


WE  LEAVE   CHARLESTOWN.  179 

with  ill-looking  men  returning  from  the  Convent, 
and  they  might  be  ripe  for  more  mischief  when 
they  recognized  the  passengers  in  the  stage. 

Shut  up  in  the  back  parlor  of  the  tavern, 
we  had  heard  nothing,  and  when  the  children 
found  themselves  jostled  by  "rowdy"  men  as  soon 
as  they  reached  thu  street,  and  saw  a  crowd  of 
them  pouring  along  the  sidewalk,  they  would  have 
turned  and  run  back  to  the  house,  had  not  Mr. 

B insisted    on    hurrying  us   into   the   stage. 

He  was  most  anxious  to  be  at  home,  looking  after 
his  own  daughter,  and  yet  he  would  not  leave 
us  behind  him,  so  he  determined  to  take  the  risk 
of  an  immediate  return  to  Boston.     We  children 

filled  the  stage  to  overflowing,   and   Mr.   B 

and  his  brother  encouraged  the  driver  by  placing 
themselves  one  on  each  side  of  him  on  the  stage- 
box. 

And  so  began  one  of  the  strangest  progresses 
ever  made;  the  Convent  was  mobbed,  robbed,  and 
burnt  by  a  body  of  from  sixty  to  a  hundred  men, 
most  of  them  Boston  truckmen,  who  had  bound 
themselves  to  undertake  that  work  of  destruction ; 


180        THE  BURNING   OF   THE   CONVENT. 

while  some  two  thousand  men,  old  and  young,  and 
of  all  conditions,  stood  quietly  by  and  looked  on, 
aiding  and  abetting  the  rioters,  because  they  did 
nothing  to  hinder  them.  In  fact,  after  the  work 
was  done,  rioters  and  spectators  must  have  frater- 
nized in  a  general  spree,  for  they  returned  together 
to  the  city  from  whence  they  came  only  when  the 
broad  light  of  day  made  it  unsafe  for  them  to  be 
found  anywhere  else.  Our  stage  drove  from  the 
door  of  the  tavern  just  as  this  streaming  tide  of 
rioters  was  pouring  down  both  sides  of  the  de- 
serted Main  Street  of  Charlestown ;  and  of  course 
the  large  coach,  the  only  vehicle  in  sight,  attracted 
their  attention  at  once.  They  had  no  difficulty 
in  identifying  the  passengers;  on  account  of  the 
heat  of  the  weather  the  curtains  of  the  stage  had 
been  rolled  up  all  round  and  the  windows  let 
down,  so  that  the  interior,  full  of  pink  calico,  and 
crowded  with  childrens'  heads,  half  of  them  bon- 
netless,  was  visible  to  all.  We  looked  as  ill-con- 
ditioned as  a  body  of  little  paupers  broken  loose 
from  the  almshouse,  and  those  of  the  mob  who 
first  caught  sight  of  us  broke  into  loud  cheering 


A  STRANGE  ESCORT.  181 

and  rude  laughter.  Fortunately  it  happened  that 
the  crowd  was  in  a  mood  of  high  good-humor,  and 
its  heart  may  have  warmed  to  our  disreputable 
appearance,  so  like  its  own.  At  any  rate,  the 
idea  of  acting  as  our  escort  to  the  city  seemed  to 
seize  upon  it  as  a  good  joke.  So  we  slowly  rode 
the  gantlet  between  a  double  file  of  amiable  ruf- 
fians, who  saluted  us  with  jeers,  yells,  shrill  whist- 
ling, and  cat-calling,  roars  of  laughter,  rough  jokes, 
and  questions.  Most  of  them  were  in  their  shirt- 
sleeves ;  some,  like  ourselves,  had  no  hats ;  others 
had  trimmed  their  hats  with  green  wreaths,  and 
stuck  flowers  in  their  breasts ;  some  had  red  and 
yellow  handkerchiefs  tied  round  their  heads,  with 
a  coxcomb  or  sunflower  stuck  in  the  knot.  Some 
danced  and  shuffled  along  the  sidewalk;  others 
strode  on  with  heads  thrown  back.  Three  or  four 
together,  with  arms  lovingly  intwTined,  filled  the 
width  of  the  sidewalk  here  and  there.  Some  car- 
ried a  couple  of  hens,  one  under  each  arm ;  some 
had  shawls  put  across  their  shoulders,  scarf-fashion, 
or  tied  round  their  waist.  "  That  is  my  winter 
shawl,"  quietly  remarked  one  of  the  older  girls, 


182        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

breaking  the  silence  in  which  we  were  riding 
along,  and  pointing  to  a  burly  tall  fellow  with  a 
tartan  plaid  round  his  body.  Luckily  he  did  not 
see  her.  Many  mock-respectful  low  bows  were 
bestowed  upon  us,  and  much  wild  waving  of  arms 
and  hands  by  way  of  salute.  We  scarcely  under- 
stood any  of  the  questions  put  to  us  in  such 
rough,  vulgar  utterance  as  the  crowd  made  use 
of,  but  we  did  not  feel  afraid  of  them ;  they  were 
evidently  good-natured  and  meant  us  no  harm. 
"  Saved  yer  diamonds  1 "  shouted  one  young  man 
to  Penelope,  who  was  resting  her  basket  on  the 
edge  of  the  stage  window.  The  lovely,  fearless 
girl  shook  her  head,  and  displayed  one  of  her 
stockings  with  a  smile ;  the  crowd  applauded  ve- 
hemently. "I  've  got  something  of  yours,  I  guess ! " 
bawled  out  another,  holding  up  his  clenched  fist 
to  the  carriage,  which  probably  contained  some 
valuable  which  he  had  stolen.  "We  've  spoiled 
your  prison  for  you,"  cried  a  third.  "  You  won't 
never  have  to  go  back  no  more."  Indeed,  the 
general  sentiment  of  the  mob  seemed  to  be  that 
they  had  done  us  a  great  favor  in  destroying  the 


A  PROCESSION  OF  RIOTERS.  183 

Convent,  for  which  we  ought  to  be  grateful  to 
them. 

How  soon  we  get  accustomed  to  anything,  how- 
ever strange  !  By  the  time  our  slow  driver,  who 
did  not  wish  to  excite  the  attention  of  the  crowd 
by  rapid  driving  over  the  stones,  had  brought  us 
across  the  bridge  into  the  city,  we  had  ceased  to 
fear  this  moving  procession  of  rioters  or  to  pay 
much  attention  to  them.  0,  how  tired  we  all 
were !  We  thought  of  nothing  but  rest,  and  the 
girls  began  to  comfort  themselves  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  it  could  not  be  far  off.  As  for  me,  I  had 
decided  in  my  own  mind  to  walk  out  to  my  home 
in  Dorchester,  about  two  miles  and  a  half  from 
Boston,  just  as  soon  as  I  should  have  fulfilled  my 
promise  to  leave  Louisa  in  a  safe  place ;  so  T  knew 
that  my  hour  of  rest  was  still  far  off,  and  I  mus- 
tered all  my  resolution  to  meet  the  call  yet  to  be 
made  on  my  strength. 

Mr.  B and  his  brother,  during  this  strange 

drive,  had  continued  to  sit  one  on  each  side  of 
the  coachman,  apparently  lost  in  abstraction,  or 
asleep;  for  they  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor 


184        THE  BURNING   OF  THE   CONVENT. 

the  left,  never  speaking  to  each  other,  or  turning 
to  address  the  children  or  even  the  coachman,  try- 
ing to  escape  the  notice  of  the  crowd  by  effacing 
themselves  as  much  as  possible.  But  when  our 
stage  had  turned  off  into  the  city  streets,  and  we 
had  left  the  body  of  returning  rioters  behind  us, 
they  quickly  recovered  speech  and  energy,  urged 
the  driver  to  speed,  and  after  a  deafening,  jolting 
rattle  over  Boston  pavements,  the  stage  drew  up 
at  the  door  of  Mr.  B— » — 's  house  on  Pearl  Place. 
Before  the  gentlemen  could  jump  down  from  the 

box  seat,  Mrs.  B came  running  to  the  door, 

in  hopes  of  meeting  her  daughter,  who  was  not 

with    us,    and    Mr.   B 's    disappointment    was 

equal  to  hers,  when  he  found  that  she  had  not 
yet  got  home,  where  he,  on  his  part,  had  been  so 
long  hoping  to  find  her. 

We  children  were  kindly  ushered  up  stairs  to  a 
parlor  well  furnished  with  sofas  and  chairs,  and 

Mrs.    B took  some  of  the  girls  to  her  own 

chamber,  bidding  them  lie  down  and  rest  for  a 
while.  Breakfast,  she  said,  would  soon  be  ready, 
it  was  only  eight  o'clock,  and  she  would  let  them 


MY  CHARGE  IN  SAFETY.  185 

know  when  the  table  was  spread.     She  and  Mr. 

B then   went   away,   absorbed    in   their  own 

affairs.     Mr.  B 's  brother  had  already  hurried 

home  in  hopes  of  being  more  fortunate,  and  find- 
ing his  own  little  daughter  safe  with  her  mother. 
I  never  knew  whether  it  was  so,  or  what  befell 

Mr.  B 's  little  girl,  or  what  was  the  fate  of 

the  children  with  whom  I  had  been  associated  all 
night.     They  all  vanished  out  of  my  life,  at  once 

and  forever.     I  had  drawn  back  when  Mrs.  B , 

looking  compassionately  at  Louisa,  kindly  held 
out  her  hand  to  lead  me  and  my  little  charge  to 
her  bedchamber,  and  had  said  something  about 
making  Louisa  comfortable  enough  on  the  sofa. 
The  little  passive  thing  lay  down  there  as  I  bid 
her,  and  I  was  delighted  to  see  her  actually  shut 
her  faded  eyes,  as  if  she  really  meant  to  go  to 
sleep  in  the  pleasant  room  whose  comfortable  ap- 
pearance seemed  to  reassure  her.     I  was  sure  that 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  B would  take  good  care  of  her, 

and  that,  as  I  seemed  to  have  made  no  impression 
on  her  feeble  mind,  she  probably  would  not  miss 
me  when  she  waked.     Feeling  that  I  had  fulfilled 


186        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

my  promise  to  the  Superior  in  regard  to  her,  I 
withdrew  my  hand  from  hers,  lingered  to  kiss  her 
pale  forehead  and  make  sure  that  she  was  really 
sleeping,  and  then  slipped  out  of  the  room,  down 
the  stairs,  and  out  of  the  house,  finding,  fortu- 
nately for  me,  the  front  door  ajar. 

In  a  moment  I  had  turned  the  corner  of  Pearl 
Place,  into  Pearl  Street.  I  knew  my  way  home 
perfectly ;  up  Pearl  Street  into  High,  down  High 
to  Summer  Street,  along  Summer  to  Sea  Street, 
and  through  the  length  of  Sea  Street,  out  upon 
the  Dorchester  turnpike.  Pearl  Street  was  a 
handsome  street,  lined  on  each  side  with  gentle- 
men's houses,  some  of  which  had  beautiful  gar- 
dens attached  to  them.  There  was  quite  a  hill  to 
be  climbed  at  the  upper  end  of  it,  where  it  turned 
into  High  Street,  and  up  this  hill  I  toiled  as  rap- 
idly as  possible,  for  the  few  people  who  met  me 
looked  at  me  with  such  wonder  and  curiosity  that 
I  was  in  a  hurry  to  leave  this  genteel  part  of  the 
town  and  lose  myself  in  the  purlieus  of  Sea  Street. 
As  I  have  represented  myself  in  the  light  of  a 
heroiue,  through  this  little  history^  I  am  ashamed 


/  START  FOR  DORCHESTER.  187 

to  say  that  in  spite  of  my  going  to  bed  dressed, 
on  the  previous  evening,  I  had  shown  as  little 
forethought  in  completing  my  toilet  as  the  tim- 
idest  child  in  school  whom  terror  had  deprived  of 
presence  of  mind.  /  was  one  of  the  bonnetless 
company,  having  nothing  on  my  head  or  on  my 
neck  and  arms.  No  wonder  people  stared !  I 
was  unfortunate  enough  to  own  a  great  crop  of 
coarse  hair,  a  pair  of  keen  black  eyes,  and  a  thin 
face,  still  "peaked"  from  the  effects  of  a  long 
typhoid-fever.  "  Dear  me,"  I  thought  uneasily, 
as  a  milkman,  jumping  from  his  cart  almost  upon 
my  feet,  saluted  me  with  a  stare  and  a  prolonged 
whistle,  "  I  must  look  exactly  like  a  weasel  peep- 
ing from  a  brush-heap ! "  for  I  was  quite  aware  of 
my  personal  defects,  and  that  I  must  be  uglier 
than  ever  just  then.  The  Boston  Athenaeum,  a 
handsome  brick  building,  stood  just  at  the  head 
of  Pearl  Street,  and  as  I  approached  it,  I  saw,  to 

my  consternation,  Dr.  A ,  our  family  physician, 

reading  the  "  Advertiser,"  at  the  open  window  of 
the  Reading-Room  ;  he  was  an  elegant  gentleman, 
precise  in  dress  and  manner,  of  whom  I  was  al- 


188        TEE  BURNING   OF  THE  CONVENT. 

ways  a  little  afraid.  How  devoutly  I  hoped  he 
would  not  see  me  as  I  passed !  I  had  lost  one 
shoestring,  so  that  I  could  not  walk  very  fast,  but 
I  held  my  head  down,  and  shuffled  along  as  rap- 
idly as  possible,  hoping  that  Dr.  A would  be 

too  much  absorbed  in  his  newspaper  to  look  up. 
But  I  believe  that  in  those  clays  the  "  Advertiser  " 
never  contained  articles  of  absorbing  interest ;  at 
least  the  good  doctor  was  not  reading  such  a  one 
at  that  moment,  for  he  raised  his  eyes  precisely  as 
I  was  passing  the  window,  and  fixed  them  on  me. 
He  was  really  too  surprised  even  to  speak  for  a 
minute,  and  I  hurried  on,  pretending  not  to  see 
him.  At  last,  "  Louisa  Goddard,"  he  cried,  in  his 
loud  cheery  voice,  "  what  are  you  doing  here  at 
this  time  of  the  morning,  and  where  did  you  come 
from  % "  I  turned  short  round  upon  him,  and 
with  a  brevity  that  makes  me  smile  when  I  think 
upon  it,  I  replied,  "  The  Convent  was  burnt  to 
the  ground  last  night  by  a  mob,  and  I  am  on  my 
way  home."  And  I  whisked  round  the  corner  as 
quickly  as  possible,  running  along  High  Street  till 
my  stringlcss  shoe  came  off,  I  was  so  afraid  the 


TWO  MILES,  BAREHEA BED.  189 

doctor  would  stop  nie,  and  I  was  bent  on  getting 
home  at  once. 

News  did  not  travel  very  fast  at  that  time,  and 
the  destruction  of  the  Convent  was  not  generally 

known  till  late  in  the  day.     Dr.  A afterwards 

said  that  he  was  too  astounded  by  my  appearance 
and  words  to  come  to  his  senses  till  I  had  disap- 
peared, and  though  he  ran  after  me  bareheaded, 
—  a  fact  on  which  he  dwelt,  as  a  proof  of  his 
determination  to  overtake  me,  —  I  was  gone  past 
recall.  I  felt  more  at  my  ease  when  I  got  into 
Sea  Street,  which  swarmed  with  Irish,  as  I  passed 
unnoticed  among  the  little  Pats  and  Bridgets  that 
played  in  the  gutter,  and  crowded  the  sidewalk  in 
front  of  the  shanties  where  they  lived.  I  began 
to  feel  a  great  pain  in  my  right  hand,  —  the  hand 
in  which  I  had  grasped  little  Louisa's  slender  fin- 
gers for  so  many  hours ;  I  had  actually  strained  it 
badly  by  this  close  continued  pressure.  I  rubbed 
it  and  shook  it,  as  I  walked  bareheaded  for  two 
good  miles,  under  the  morning  sun,  along  Dor- 
chester turnpike.  This  turnpike  crossed  a  marsh, 
and  was  the  highway  between  South  Boston  and 


190        THE  BURNING    OF   THE  CONVENT. 

the  country.  Tramps,  beggars,  and  evil-disposed 
persons  were  always  wandering  up  and  down  upon 
it,  and  though  several  gentlemen's  chaises  and 
carryalls  passed  me  on  the  road,  I  was  not  taken 
much  notice  of,  I  suppose  because  I  resembled  the 
foot-passengers  they  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting 
there.  Excitement  kept  me  up  during  that  long 
walk,  but  as  I  entered  the  back  gate  of  my  father's 
yard  I  felt  that  I  was  going  to  break  down. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  I  was  actually  at  home 
at  that  very  hour  on  yesterday  morning]  I  had 
to  search  back  in  my  memory  to  recall  the  time, 
for  years  seemed  to  have  passed  since  then.  I 
hurried  through  the  kitchen  quickly ;  the  cook 
was  washing  dishes  at  the  sink,  and  she  too  turned 
and  looked  at  me,  as  if  she  saw  a  spectre.  I 
stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  back  stairs  and  looked 
up;  my  mother  was  just  crossing  the  landing, 
turning  on  her  hand  a  clean  sock  for  my  father  to 
put  on,  for  she  was  one  of  the  old-fashioned  wives 
who  laid  out  their  husband's  clean  clothes  at  the 
proper  times  of  changing  as  regularly  as  they  did 
their  baby's. 


/  REACH  HOME.  191 

How  well  I  remember  her  look  and  her  scream 
when  she  saw  me,  —  a  scream  that  was  repeated 
when  I  slowly  ascended  the  stairs  and  appeared 
before  her  in  all  my  forlornness.  "  What  is  the 
matter  1  How  did  you  get  here  1 "  she  cried,  seiz- 
ing hold  of  me.     I  answered  her  just  as  briefly  as 

I  had  answered  Dr.  A .      "  The  Convent  was 

burned  last  night  by  a  mob,  and  so  I  thought  I 
had  better  come  home."  And  then  I  broke  into  a 
violent  fit  of  tears  and  hysterics.  Strange  to  say, 
notwithstanding  they  had  been  forewarned  of  the 
possibility  of  this  event  happening,  my  parents 
did  not  believe  my  statement.  My  mother  was 
immediately  possessed  with  the  idea  that  I  had  a 
brain-fever,  —  probably  the  result  of  my  late  long 
sickness,  —  and  that  I  had  run  away  from  the 
Convent  in  that  condition.  Perhaps  a  confused 
recollection  of  Sister  Mary  John's  illness  haunted 
her  mind.  She  forbade  my  speaking  a  single 
word  more,  though  I  made  desperate  efforts  be- 
tween my  sobs,  and  as  soon  as  I  was  somewhat 
calmed,  to  get  her  to  listen  to  my  adventures. 
She  took  me  into  a  darkened  chamber,  undressed 


192        THE  BURNING    OF   TIIE   CONVENT. 

and  put  me  to  bed,  shut  the  door  behind  her,  and 
sent  for  the  doctor.  I  fell  asleep,  of  course,  for- 
tunately, or  I  might  indeed  have  had  a  brain- 
fever,  and  before  I  waked  the  door  began  to  be 
besieged  by  officious  friends,  who  came  to  let  my 
parents  know  what  had  happened  on  Mount  Ben- 
edict. Three  of  the  pupils  died  afterwards  from 
the  effects  of  that  night's  terrors  and  exposures, 
but  I  remained  well  enough  to  enjoy  being  the 
heroine  of  the  family  for  a  time.  Indeed,  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  I  was  called  a  hero- 
ine by  some  others  outside  the  family.  Long 
years  afterwards  I  heard  the  story  of  the  burning 
of  the  Convent  by  a  mob  repeated  by  strangers  in 
California,  and  the  courageous  behavior  of  a  little 
girl  named  Louisa  Goddard  commented  upon  in 
terms  of  admiration.  No  one  knew  that  home- 
sickness in  my  case  was  stronger  than  fear,  and 
that  I  was  glad  to  welcome  any  way  of  escape 
from  the  novelty  of  Convent  restraints.  I  was 
too  young  to  understand  the  real  dangers  of  the 
night,  and  too  old  or  perhaps  too  sensible  to  be- 
lieve  in  the  imaginary  ones. 


WILL   THE  SCHOOL  BE  RE OPENED ?      193 

The  friends  of  the  Convent  wished  very  much 
that  the  school  should  be  continued,  and  urged 
the  Sisters  not  to  allow  themselves  to  be  driven 
from  their  post  by  the  outcries  of  Protestant 
bigots.  A  large  house  in  Roxbury  was  taken  for 
them,  and  it  seemed  probable  for  some  time  that 
the  school  would  be  reopened  there  on  a  very 
small  scale.  This  was  a  very  anxious  period  for 
me,  and  I  had  sundry  dreadful  frights,  for  my 
father  drove  over  with  me  several  times  to  see  the 
Sisters  while  they  were  in  Roxbury,  always  assur- 
ing me,  on  the  way,  that  he  should  leave  me 
among  them  if  he  found  they  were  ready  to  re- 
ceive pupils. 

Before  this  matter  was  settled,  however,  I  was 
obliged  to  have  some  new  frocks,  my  wTardrobe 
having  been  destroyed  in  the  fire  that  consumed 
the  Convent.  As  my  mother  was  much  occupied 
with  "  the  baby  "  of  the  period,  who  was  teething, 
—  we  always  had  a  baby  at  our  house,  and  it 
was  always  teething,  —  she  permitted  me  to  go  to 
Boston  and  choose  them  for  myself.  I  well  re- 
member good  Mr.  D ,  in  his  auburn  wig,  bend- 

9  M 


194        THE  BURNING   OF  THE   CONVENT. 

ing  over  the  counter  and  pressing  upon  my  notice 
some  excellent  French  calicoes,  "  in  good  washable 
pink,  best  color  in  the  world  for  children's  wear," 
on  which  I  turned  my  back  with  horror.  I 
made  haste  to  buy  a  blue  print  and  a  buff  ging- 
ham,  and  was  hurrying  out  of  the  store,  when 

Mr.  D called  me  back  to  thrust  a  little  folded 

paper  into  my  hand,  containing  patterns  of  the 
desirable  pink  calicoes,  which  I  was  to  show  my 
mother,  and  tell  her  they  were  cut  from  a  lot 
of  new  goods,  just  received.  "  I  am  quite  sure," 
he  added,  benignly  smiling,  "that  when  she  ex- 
amines these  patterns  she  will  let  you  have  a 
new  pink  frock !  " 

"  0,  dear  me  !  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  she  will, 
too,"  thought  I  to  myself,  as  I  walked  away ;  and 
I  confess  that  after  a  struggle  with  my  conscience 
I  scattered  the  patterns  along  the  street,  and  re- 
solved to  say  nothing  to  my  mother  about  them. 
"  Never,"  I  thought,  "  would  I  put  myself  in  the 
way  of  resuming  the  Convent  uniform,  —  it  would 
be  like  committing  suicide  to  present  myself  to 
my  father  in  a  new  pink  frock,  of  my  own  free 


NO  MORE  PINK  DRESSES!  195 

will;  why,  I  should  feel  like  a  lamb  ready  for 
sacrifice." 

However,  the  Ursuline  Community  at  last  left 
the  neighborhood  of  Boston,  following  the  orders 
of  their  superiors,  and  all  sorts  of  scandalous  sto- 
ries were  put  in  circulation  in  reference  to  their 
departure,  not  one  of  which,  probably,  had  the 
least  foundation  in  truth. 

This  was  a  great  relief  to  me,  and  now  that  I 
was  no  longer  harassed  by  the  fear  of  returning 
to  the  Convent,  I  recollect  entering  very  warmly 
into  the  general  indignation  expressed  by  our 
friends  at  the  conduct  of  the  State  in  refusing  to 
pay  the  Catholics  the  damages  due  them  legally 
for  the  destruction  of  their  property  on  Mount 
Benedict  by  the  mob.  My  father,  remembering  my 
school-books  and  money  paid  for  me  in  advance, 
thought  some  recompense  due  from  the  State  to 
parents;  and  my  mother,  with  a  sigh,  cordially 
agreed  with  him,  as  she  recollected  the  time  and 
labor  spent  on  my  outfit.  My  beautiful  silver 
mug,  one  of  fifty  or  sixty  which  glittered  in  the 
refectory   buffet,  —  all   of   which  were   probably 


196        THE  BURNING    OF   THE   CONVENT. 

stolen  by  the  rioters,  —  was  a  present  to  me  in 
infancy  from  an  aged  aunt  who  lived  to  lament  its 
loss,  and  was  frequently  heard  to  declare  "that 
Massachusetts  owed  a  new  silver  mug  to  every 
child  bereaved  of  one  by  the  mob." 

Bereaved !  Ah,  I  could  have  borne  to  be  bereaved 
of  my  mug,  my  school-books,  my  pink  frocks,  and 
my  pillow-cases,  if  Claribel  had  only  been  spared ! 
Even  Claribel  despoiled  of  her  wardrobe,  which 
had  been  the  labor  of  my  life,  and  dressed  only  in 
the  tissue-paper  chemise,  the  sole  garment  she 
brought  with  her  from  the  shop.  Thus,  in  my 
turn,  I  made  my  moan,  with  the  feeling,  however, 
that  the  State  of  Massachusetts  could  do  nothing 
to  recompense  me. 

But  while  all  sore  feeling  in  regard  to  personal 
losses  has  long  since  passed  away,  the  great  fact 
remains  the  same,  that  the  State  of  Massachusetts 
owed  the  Catholics  complete  reparation  for  the 
destruction  of  the  Ursuline  Convent  on  Mount 
Benedict  by  a  wicked  mob,  and  I  shall  never  cease 
to  feel  indignant  because  it  owes  that  reparation 
still ! 


ONE  MOB  SYMPATHIZER  SNUBBED!      197 

After  I  grew  up  to  be  a  young  lady  I  remember 
meeting  at  a  ball  a  certain  middle-aged  dandy, 
who  endeavored  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  me, 
while  waiting  for  our  dance  to  begin,  by  relating 
one  of  his  youthful  experiences.  "He  had,"  he 
said,  "formed  one  of  a  large  party  of  young  gentle- 
men, who  followed  the  rioters  to  Charlestown,  on 
the  night  of  the  burning  of  the  Convent,  merely 
out  of  curiosity  to  see  what  they  would  do,"  and 
who  afterwards,  seated  on  the  grass  at  a  respectful 
distance,  watched  them  till  they  had  completed 
their  work  of  destruction. 

"  And  did  you  do  nothing  to  prevent  it  1"  I 
asked,  flashing  round  upon  him  indignantly.  "Did 
you  make  no  attempt  to  help  the  Nuns  and  the 
children  % " 

"  Why  —  a  —  no  —  "  he  answered,  a  little  dis- 
concerted at  my  vehemence ;  "  there  did  n't  seem 
to  be  anything  we  could  do,  —  and  in  fact  —  I 
was  nH  acquainted  with  any  of  the  young  ladies  of 
the  school  at  that  time.  There  were  some  very 
pretty  girls  there,  so  I  have  heard,  but  you  see,  I 
had  n't  been  introduced.     If  I  had  known  any  of 


198        THE  BURNING   OF  THE   CONVENT. 

them,  of  course  I  should  have  —  Ah  !  "  greatly 
relieved,  "there  is  our  waltz  at  last.  How  beauti- 
fully the  Germanias  play  those  Nathalie  waltzes ! 
Allow  me,"  aud  Mr.  Dandy  let  his  eye-glass 
drop  from  the  socket  in  which  he  had  stuck  it, 
and  put  forth  a  gracefully  curving  arm  to  encircle 
my  waist. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  I  coldly,  drawing  back,  "but 
I  don't  like  a  feeble  partner.  I  like  to  be  held 
up  firmly  when  I  waltz,  and  that  arm,"  and  I 
looked  significantly  at  the  outstretched  member, 
"must  be  weak  indeed  which  had  not  strength 
to  uplift  itself  in  defence  of  helpless  women  and 
girls." 

"  I  had  him  there  !  "  was  my  elegant  reflection, 
as  I  walked  away,  fanning  my  flushed  face,  and 
rejoicing  that  my  skill  as  a  dancer,  which  Mrs. 
Barrymore  had  praised  at  the  Convent,  was  now 
sufficiently  developed  to  make  my  refusal  of  Mr. 
Dandy  for  a  partner  a  mortification  to  him. 


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